


The Maid

by ostara_san



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 19th Century, AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anxiety, Arranged Marriage, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Classical Music, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Depression, Drama, England (Country), F/F, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Religious Guilt, Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 66,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostara_san/pseuds/ostara_san
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the sole heir to her estate, it is expected that Krista Lenz will marry a man of good fortune. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, it is revealed to her by her controlling and manipulative grandmother that she must become engaged to a man named Bertholdt Hoover. But when the new maid, a mysterious girl named Ymir, gets close to her, Krista must decide between her heart and her family. Will she choose her fate? Or will she let her grandmother control her forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Krista Lenz walked upon a wide and twisting road as she made the mile-long journey to the village shops. It was a pleasant day - there was barely a cloud in the sky, and Krista enjoyed the feeling of the spring-time sun upon her face. The morning dew clung to blades of grass adorning the sides of the road and poking through its cracks. Passing by fields of wildflowers and tall grass, Krista smiled - she loved visiting the village. A quiet and sleepy town holding a few shops, a church, and a dance hall was all she needed, and that was where she was headed.

Today, Krista had no particular reason to visit other than to perhaps check for new sheet music or buy some lace for a dress. Mostly she just wanted to be outside - any excuse to escape the lonely estate on which she lived was worthy. As much as she adored her father, living alone with him in an estate of their size left her very lonely, and very bored. He was loving, of course, and tried to be attentive to her; but the looming depression he succumbed to when Krista's mother died had never set him free. She had never known her mother, as the woman died shortly after giving birth to her just over sixteen years ago. Occasionally, Krista and her father would visit her mother's grave in the town a few miles from theirs', but since her father's depression had worsened they had not gone.

It took Krista less than an hour to reach her destination. As she reached the top of a rather steep hill, the village came into view, nestled between fields of crops. Once reaching the bottom, a familiar voice shouted out to her.

"Miss Lenz!" It was the voice of Jean Kirstein, a man of supreme self-confidence and blatant honesty, who was never willing to release Krista from his company on the rare occasion she made conversation with him. Jean was the son of the village reverend, and he certainly took after his father - they shared the same long face and narrow, hazel eyes.

He made his way over to her and bowed politely. "Would you allow me to accompany you?"

"Mr Kirstein," she curtseyed and allowed him to take her arm. Mr Kirstein was not the ideal candidate for her company, but he was better than nobody at all. "What business brings you into town today?" She asked.

"Nothing in particular," he said. "I just thought I would see who was in the village on this fine morning. Yourself?"

"I am simply looking for new sheet music; I seem to have exhausted my grandmother's collection."

"Well, you must come and play at the church again soon! Everyone enjoyed you immensely last time." Jean said. "But I had imagined that you would be crafting a new dress; are you in search of supplies?"

"For what occasion would that be, Mr Kirstein?" Krista said as they reached the little village. The streets were busier than usual, due to the warm weather and clear sky.

"My! Have you not heard?" He exclaimed, looking at her with a shocked expression. "Dr Jaeger and his wife are holding a ball in celebration of their son's coming home. Colonel Keenan's brigade are returning to the village."

"Well, then. If that's the case, then yes, I shall be in need of materials!" Krista laughed. "That is if I receive invitation, of course."

"I have no doubt that you will, Miss Lenz." Jean said. "Do tell me; how are your father and grandmother? I do hope that they are well."

"Yes, they are, thank you." Krista smiled through her lie. Her father was not well; in fact, she had not seen him in two days. Once again he had stopped eating.

The trip in the village was interesting, but Krista longed for the quiet in which she needed to find the things she wanted. Jean Kirstein was a man who talked as if every day were his last to speak, but she was too shy to refuse the man's company. After an almost full half hour of she listening to him and answering his questions as briefly as she could, they ran into Krista's friend Sasha.

"Mr Kirstein!" Sasha exclaimed from the other end of the street, her unkempt hair bouncing up and down as she ran to them. "Krista!"

Jean bowed. "Good morning, Miss Blouse," he said.

"Yes, good morning to you, too." She said quickly. "Krista, there is a matter of urgent importance of which I must speak to you in private. Mr Kirstein, would you excuse our company?"

Jean looked almost dumbfounded for a second before replying. "Yes - of course - I apologise," he said awkwardly. "Do let me know if everything is alright. Oh, and Krista-"

"Yes?"

"You must promise me your first hand at the dance - I shall not take no for an answer."

Krista faked looking pleased. "Of course," she said, and walked away as Sasha took her arm. "What happened?" She asked once they were out of earshot.

Sasha laughed loudly, brashly; it fit her character so well. "Nothing!" She said. "But I know when to get you out of a situation like that. I would not want to see my best friend passed away from boredom, would I?"

Krista laughed too. "Well then let me extend my deepest gratitude, for you may have just saved my life!"

"It was my pleasure. Now," she said, fixing her hair, "what exactly did you come here to buy?"

"Nothing in particular, I simply wanted to leave the estate for a little while. And you?"

"The exact same. The dogs would not stop barking, I thought they would drive me insane. It is as if my parents just let the animals run around wild…" She continued. Sasha lived on a small farm several miles from the town, and as a result she always looked dishevelled in some way, though her smile was charming. What Krista liked most about her was the air for mischievousness she exuded - something Krista felt she was missing from her own life.

They decided to visit the shop of fabrics, a small, cosy place, with rows and rows of different materials hanging from the ceiling and adorning the walls. The owner, Mr Graham, was a slightly eccentric man, and he, like Krista, played the pianoforte. He would sometimes sell her sheet music for a very low price considering how much she could and would be willing to pay for new pieces. Krista was incredibly grateful for his services to her, and purchased two new pieces of music and some lace while she was there.

"This is for the ball, I presume then?" Mr Graham asked her as she handed him her money.

"I think so - as I have heard, everyone in the town is invited."

"You'd be correct there - even I am!" He said, laughing.

"And I am!" Sasha called from the the other end of the shop.

"I am so glad," said Krista, "for balls are a rather hectic occasion, are they not?"

"But that's what makes them so much fun." Sasha said, bringing her purchases to Mr Graham.

A few clouds were dotted in the sky when Krista and Sasha left the shop, waving goodbye to Mr Graham.

"Are you excited for the ball, then?" Sasha asked. "I know I am. Just think! There will be so many men there to dance with that we have never seen before!"

Krista laughed. "I am not quite sure how I feel about it. It shall be pleasant to see new faces, but it is rather intimidating, do you not think?"

"Not at all!" Sasha laughed. "In fact, my mother was mentioning to me that I might even possibly find a husband!"

"A husband?" Krista asked, shocked.

"Yes, Krista, you shall have to get one sometime soon! You cannot just keep avoiding men forever, else they shall all be snatched up, and you will be forced to marry someone like Mr Kirstein…" She teased.

"Heaven forbid!" Krista said. "But he is not terribly awful, you know. Simply rather…"

"Arrogant? Nauseating?"

"Sasha!"

"Oh, Krista, come on now. I should not be expecting some kind of confession of your love for him now, should I?"

Krista laughed. "Oh, no. Certainly not. I am just simply not interested in getting married!"

"Why ever not?"

She sighed. "I suppose I just do not want to leave my father all on his own." Krista said.

"That answer is adequate, I suppose," Sasha grinned.

A short while later, Sasha said goodbye, and as much as she adored her, Krista enjoyed the silence on the way home. The walk felt far longer on the way home, she found; without half the excitement to return home as she had enjoyed when leaving, the journey seemed to drag.

The estate on which Krista lived was a wealthy one, of which she was the sole heir. It had belonged to Katherine Marshall, Krista's mother, before she had married her father, Henry Lenz. Krista was now in the situation her mother had been: heir of the estate but with no siblings, nor male cousins to speak of; not a single uncle, only aunts; and although her father was a widower, he strongly refused the proposition of a second marriage, so there was no chance another heir could be born.

This refusal to remarry was deeply loathed by Krista's grandmother, an uptight, traditional woman, who valued accomplishments above all else, and was driven by money and estate. She lived but fifteen miles away, so she spent much time at the Lenz estate, which was slightly larger than her own. Since Krista had turned sixteen a few months prior, Elizabeth had been dropping less-than-subtle indications that she wanted Krista to marry, just as Sasha had done, although in a much less friendly way. However, she had yet to find a man she deemed worthy of her granddaughter's hand; Krista dreaded the day when she did.

Approaching the estate, Krista saw her grandmother's carriage parked near the stables. She sighed quietly before regaining her composure and making her way back into the house. Her grandmother had a certain knack for making Krista feel worthless - though in the company of others Krista's grandmother was anything but critical. Krista was greeted by the head cook when she arrived home, which still caught her off guard: after one of their maids had resigned from her position, there had been changes in their system. Krista made note to ask her father when a new maid would be appointed to their staff.

"Krista, you are finally back." said Elizabeth Lenz, as Krista entered the sitting room. She was sipping tea from a beautifully decorated china cup, her thinning grey hair pinned elegantly up.

"Good morning, grandmother," Krista said quietly.

"Been visiting the village again, have you? You ought to have taken the carriage." Her voice was loud and firm - it seemed to fill the room, dominate it. "Once you have dealt with your purchases, I would like you to join me here. There's a matter I would like to discuss with you."

Krista curtseyed and left the room. When she returned, her father and grandmother were waiting for her. Her father gestured for her to sit. She smiled when she saw him there - was he finally feeling better? Either way, Krista was relieved, for her grandmother seemed less intimidating when Krista's father was there.

Krista sat across the room from them both tentatively. This was an oddly formal meeting, even by her grandmother's standards - Krista could almost feel her grandmother's eyes boring into her - was she in some kind of trouble? She could not recall anything she had done wrong.

"Krista," Elizabeth Lenz began. "I should like now to discuss the topic of marriage with you." There was no question in her words.

"Krista?" Her father urged upon the silence that ensued. "Have you anything to say?"

"No," she spoke quietly, not looking her intimidating grandmother in the eye. So after all of those hints, they were finally going to speak about it formally. How fitting, she thought to herself, after Sasha had mentioned the topic in the village. She supposed it was going to happen eventually.

"I believe to have found someone suited to you, my dear." She went on, her voice becoming sharper, emphasising the word dear. Krista's heart sank. "His name is Bertholdt Hoover, and he is in possession of a very wealthy estate in the north of the country. Now, nothing has been arranged let me make that clear, Krista; I am simply saying that he would be a very suitable match for you, and I am telling you to do everything you can to make that man propose to you."

Krista's eyes threatened to spill with tears. She knew that this had been coming, but not quite so soon; at least, she thought she would have time to prepare. Krista's father sat up a little straighter and smiled painfully at his daughter, an apologetic expression in his eyes.

"He is a perfectly amiable, man, Krista. I have met him myself. He shares the same disposition as you do. And he very much enjoys listening to the pianoforte."

"How can you be so sure he would favour me?" She asked her grandmother, her voice barely audible, and wavering with the anticipation of tears. "How am I to undertake such a huge task?"

"My dear, he has no reason not to! An accomplished woman of your age, with such beauty? He would have to be a madman to refuse you. Look at that pretty blonde hair; you look just like your mother." She glanced at her son, a small smirk on her thin lips. "And once a man falls in love with a woman as beautiful as that, it can be difficult for him to love again. Isn't that so, Henry, dear?"

Krista's father's hand shook as he raised his cup to his lips. "Let us not speak of this now, please, mother."

"Very well." Her voice was strained. She turned back to Krista. "But we are discussing your marriage, my dear. Now, the perfect opportunity has arisen for your meeting. She leaned forward and presented an invitation. As Krista had expected, it was to the ball Mr Kirstein had informed her of, the celebration of the return of the brigade at Dr Jaeger's estate.

"Mr Hoover' closest childhood friend, Reiner Braun, is part of that very brigade, so he shall be attending with no doubt." Said Krista's grandmother. "As will you. Your first impression is crucial, especially in a public setting such as this. If you perform well, I have no doubt that you shall be engaged within the month."

Krista's eyes once again fell to her lap. A single tear escaped her eye and landed on the fabric of her dress, staining it. Krista hoped that her sadness would fade as quickly as the tear mark. She had just a month; at least, a month at the earliest - and then what would she do? Worse - what would happen if he did not like her? She would surely be blamed by her grandmother.

"Say, is that a horse?" The eldest Lenz turned attention from Krista to look out of the window, where a figure was riding down the path on horseback.

"Good, that must be her." Said Henry. "Apologies. I must excuse myself from the room."

"Her? That's the new maid? Good Lord, son, who have you hired?" There was suddenly a loud knock on the door. "Henry! This is the woman you told me of?"

"The very same, mother. Please excuse me." The man got up from his chair and went to answer the door. Krista peered over to the doorway as her father let in the stranger. The stable boy went to tie up her dark-haired horse.

"Good evening." He smiled at the girl.

"Sir," she bowed. Krista's eyes briefly caught the unknown girl's. They glistened with intensity; Krista was suddenly taken aback. The smallest smirk flickered on her face before turning back to Krista's father.

"Welcome to the Lenz estate," her father began.

"Henry! Bring the girl here. Address yourself!"

Jean got a closer look at her when she followed Mr Lenz She was tall; far taller than Krista. Her skin was tanned, and her hair was long, falling far past her shoulders; it was dark, and straight - but unkempt. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. Her eyes were narrow, a deep and dark brown, and her lips were curled into a smile. She was without a doubt the strangest but most striking girl Krista had ever seen.

She curtseyed for such a long time that it was almost mocking.

"Mrs Lenz," her voice echoed through the room, a hint of a laugh in her tone. "My name is Ymir."


	2. The Piano

The sweet melody of her latest piece filled Krista’s ears as her hands moved across the keys. Despite it not taking her fancy at first, upon playing the music for the first time, she had grown fond of it. She had started learning the piano when she was four years old, and had played every day since. The result of this dedication was that her playing was famous throughout the town; Krista would perform at most balls and social gatherings.

Krista let her mind drift away with the song as she played. She tried hard not to think of next week’s ball, and what would happen there; instead, her thoughts drifted to the new maid and her unusual appearance, and that glimmer in her eye-

_ Clang! _

A wrong note. Krista sighed, chastising herself for becoming so easily distracted. Attempting to play again, she found that she had lost her focus, and instead devised a plan to go and ask the head chef about the mysterious Ymir. Krista and the head chef got along very well; she was a large woman, but an excellent cook, and never failed to give her honest opinion to Krista, because they respected each other with equal value. Krista saw her as the mother she’d never had, and knew the chef felt the same.

Krista made her way downstairs, whistling to herself. The kitchen was busy with the preparations of lunch, but the merry woman was happy to see Krista.

“Hello, Miss Lenz,” she smiled. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Nothing of particular importance… I just wondered if you knew anything about the new maid in our service… What was her name? Ymir?”

The woman set down her cooking knife and wiped her brow. “Yes, Ymir. She’s certainly a quiet one. Seemed a little off to me, but otherwise she’s very good. Although your grandmother seemed positively appalled by her.”

Krista nodded. She’d known this; Elizabeth Lenz was furious at Ymir’s disrespect.

“Ymir? What about a last name, girl?” She had snapped.

“Ma'am, I do not have a last name.” The strange girl had replied, much to the  infuriation of the woman; she had left soon after, back to her own large estate only a few miles away.

“Did she not speak at all?” Krista continued. “Not a word?”

“Nothing but simple pleasantries. Oh! She did mention that she would like to become acquainted with you, my dear. An odd request, but she’s an odd girl. Lord knows what your father was thinking when he hired her. I suppose he took pity on her; she is your age, no doubt.”

Krista requested a cup of tea and thanked her, before returning to her practise. She sat on her stool, hands gliding over the keys but not pressing them. She changed music from her newest piece to an old favourite; one she had cherished since she was little. As her fingers graced the notes, she thought of what the maid had told her. To become acquainted with her? Indeed, it was an awfully strange request. Krista pondered over its meaning and quickly became lost in thought, not noticing as a figure approached the room.

“Aren’t you going to play something?” Said a voice from the doorway. Krista jumped, accidentally pressing down hard on the piano keys, which startled her again. She quickly turned around to this unfamiliar voice addressing her so casually. Of course, it was the new maid. Krista was confounded; she sat staring, her mouth slightly open. “Well,” the girl continued, “that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” She laughed to herself before apologising.

“Oh… well, it’s quite fine,” Krista said, still shocked by the casual nature in which the girl spoke. “It is Ymir, is it not?”

“That would be correct, Miss Lenz.” She had suddenly become formal in speech. “May I come in?”

“Of course. May I ask why?”

Ymir gestured to the saucer she held in her hand, a cup of tea balanced precariously on top.

Krista shook her head, attempting to regain composure. Why was she suddenly so flustered? “Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Shock flickered through Ymir’s eyes. “Thank you?” She said confusedly.

Krista smiled at her, slightly confused. “Yes, thank you.” She repeated. Ymir returned to normal, curtseyed, and went to leave the room.

“Wait!” Krista said, not thinking. Ymir stopped in her tracks and turned back around. “My apologies… I was just wondering… It would normally be Miss Peters to bring the tea… Is something wrong in the kitchens?”

“No, miss, nothing is wrong.” Ymir said. “I asked Miss Peters if I could take it, instead, in the hopes that I may be able to hear you play.” There was not a hint of hesitation in her tone.

Once again, Krista was taken aback. “Do you still retain that wish?” She asked, and when the maid replied positively, she turned to her piano, and began to play.

The first movement of Mozart’s Piano Sonata no.16; a piece she knew so well, that she hardly had to look at the music. Her eyes closed as she was filled with comfort and happiness; never had she felt this connected to the music, never had she felt this much energy as her fingers flowed like water over the keys, each note falling perfectly into place and filling the room with flawless tonal quality.

“Mozart,” Ymir breathed, as the resonation of her final note faded from the room. “It’s beautiful.”

Krista had never been aware of such a tense silence. She was almost afraid to turn around and face this strange girl. Who was she? Her heart was pounding in her chest and there was a slight tremor in her hands. Krista had suspected her a peasant, come to work for her father, but she could recognise Mozart? How could that be?

“Who are you?” Krista broke the silence.

“I’m Ymir.” She replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

“But… I mean… Where are you from? How do you know that piece?”

Ymir avoided her questions, instead moving forward, and sitting down on the stool next to Krista. Not saying a word, she slowly began to pluck the melody of the song, much slower than Krista had; it was the same song nonetheless. Her hand brushed once against Krista’s, who recoiled immediately as her nervousness increased tenfold.

“I was always terrible at the pianoforte.” She laughed before turning to Krista and laughing more at the completely shocked expression on her face. She then got up and walked out the room. As she reached the doorway, she paused. “You’ll find out about me, eventually, I have no doubt.” She then curtseyed and left Krista alone with her endless questions and shaking hands.   

*****

Krista’s path did not cross Ymir’s for the next few days, which were spent preparing for the upcoming ball. The return of the brigade and the ball at the Jaegers’ was all that was talked of; there was not a woman without a new dress. Krista had finished designing her dress the day after her incident with the new maid. She completed it faster than any other she had ever designed before in the search for anything to distract her mind from Ymir.

The dress was finally complete the day before the dreaded ball; to Krista, the only thing it signified was her loss of freedom. As she tried it on, with the help of one of her maids, all she could think of was this man, Mr Hoover. If he proposed, there was no way she could say no. Her grandmother would be furious, and as much as Krista disliked her, she had trouble saying no to anybody. Especially someone as intimidating as she.

Krista studied her reflection in the mirror. The dress had been made flawlessly, exactly as she had intended; the cloth she had chosen fell in all the right places and framed her small build, highlighting her good features and hiding the bad. The apple green colour and lace cloth suited her blonde hair and fragile build perfectly.

Her grandmother came to visit; Krista knew she would be getting a lecture on how to behave at the ball. Despite the fact that her manners were always impeccable, Krista’s grandmother liked to remind her constantly how to behave. Krista wished her father would be there to provide support, but his melancholy demeanor had worsened over the past few days; he had barely left his room, and Krista missed him. She was even more lonely than usual, and when the dreaded lecture finally came about, her father wasn’t there.

Mrs Lenz was a widow, and had been for eight years. She had been married for forty-five years, since she was sixteen. Krista knew this was the reason the woman was forcing marriage upon her; her grandmother knew the importance of marrying young, for her wedding had been to one of the richest and most influential men in the county.

Krista was versed thoroughly in ball etiquette. She was told, many times, to attempt to secure a second dance; although her grandmother deemed this ‘inevitable’. A second dance with a man of his stature on their first meeting would be a great compliment to Krista.

“Krista.” Her grandmother addressed her with an unusual level of informality, but her tone was sharp. “It is paramount to your family’s honor that this goes well. I do not doubt you in the slightest; but, as a precaution, I must remind you of the pivotal importance that this holds.”

“Yes, grandmother,” a stray blonde curl fell over Krista’s eyes as she promised to perform to her best standard.

That night, Krista hardly slept. She tossed and turned in her bed, attempting to fall asleep; but her constant fear and worry kept her awake. She thought about this Mr Hoover she was destined to marry. Would she like him? How would her father cope with her gone? What about the new maid…? Would Krista ever find out who she was? Krista knew she would not find the answers these questions within her own mind, yet she pondered them endlessly; and when morning came, she was barely able to lift herself from her bed. Instead she lay there, and watched the bright colours of her last sunrise of freedom through a gap in the curtains.

The day seemed to pass in no time at all, and yet, at the same time, with an excruciating slowness; each minute felt like an hour, but the hours themselves flew by. Her father would not be accompanying her to the ball; instead, Krista would be attending with her grandmother.

The afternoon passed and soon Krista was being dressed once again for the ball. Before making her final preparations to leave, her father called her to his room. She knocked on the door gently and entered upon his permission.

“Krista, my dear girl,” he smiled sadly from his bed. She had barely seen him in days. Just looking at him reassured her nerves slightly. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Krista asked.

“Yes,” he pointed to the dresser across the room, the one that used to belong to Krista’s mother. “Do you see the jewelry box, there?”

Krista nodded and walked over. Her fingers touched the clasp of the ornate box; when her father nodded his approval, she opened it.

It was almost empty, but immediately, one piece caught her attention. It was a silver bracelet, simple, with one charm of a beautiful jade green. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry Krista had ever seen. Entranced, she picked it up, and delicately inspected it.

“I met your mother at a dance, you know,” her father said quietly. “It was that charm that first charmed me,” - he laughed - “and when I looked up and saw her face, I fell in love. We were eighteen, back then. She was only mine for five years, and those were the best I have ever experienced. And Krista, my dear, dear daughter, you are the best gift she could have ever given me; when I look at you now, there is nothing more sure in my heart that that. I’m sorry I cannot be around more to see you. But please; take that bracelet, and wear it tonight, so your mother can be with you.”

Tears had pooled in Krista’s eyes; she simply nodded, unable to speak. A knock on the door informed them it was time for Krista to leave. Miss Peters escorted her downstairs and into the carriage, and with that, Krista left her father behind to go and secure a proposal.

  
  



	3. Disgraced

“Ma’am,” the servant helped Krista’s grandmother out of the carriage, bowing as she stepped onto the Jaeger estate. Their buildings were not as grand or impressive as the Lenz’s, but held a well sized dance hall. Krista followed her. She knew that if she were not facing the introduction to a man who would almost certainly become her husband, she would be excited; not just by the prospect of a ball, but also to see the men from the brigade. 

Krista’s grandmother reminded her for the last time how important this was, then took her arm and let her into the dance hall. It was a charming room, and the scene was a picture of jollity; a string quartet played joyous music on a balcony above the dancers, who moved in perfect synchrony to the song. Krista immediately recognised her friend, Miss Sasha Blouse, with whom she exchanged a look of recognition as she talked to Connie Springer. Mrs Lenz found a table, and was then immediately back on her feet, looking for Mr Hoover. 

She led Krista through swarms of people, her eyes scanning each face. It didn’t take long before she spotted the man she was after. 

Bertholdt Hoover was stood, alone, against a tall pillar. The first thing Krista noticed about him was his incredible height; he towered over everyone around, and Krista was immediately intimidated. However, upon closer inspection, his expression was of worry and anxiety. He looked almost frightened. 

“Mr Hoover,” Mrs Lenz walked over to the man, Krista in tow. Never in her life had Krista been more nervous; fear seemed to flow through her veins, her heartbeat in time with the fast rhythm of the music. 

“Mrs Lenz!” Bertholdt bowed immediately. “It is an honour.”

“I would say the same to you.” She curtseyed. Krista had never seen her grandmother act so politely. 

The man smiled with a bashful expression. “You are alone, here, Mrs Lenz? May I enquire about your family?”

The normally stern woman laughed. “No, I am not alone.” She stepped to the side to reveal Krista, who had been half-hiding behind her grandmother’s taller frame. “This is my granddaughter, Krista Lenz.”

Bertholdt’s eyes fell to Krista. A deep blush immediately flushed his cheeks as he admired her golden hair and bright blue eyes, illuminated by the light of thousands of flickering candles. She was indeed the most perfect girl he had ever seen.

“M-miss Lenz,” he stuttered. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“It is my pleasure,” she curtseyed. 

“May I be graced with the pleasure of your hand in the next dance?” Krista saw her grandmother’s smile from the corner of her eye. 

“Of course.” Krista replied, taking his arm. 

Krista’s heart was racing with nerves as they made their way to join the dancers. The next song started and suddenly she was reaching up to dance with this man, this man that she had never met before, this man who in the future could be her husband. He was quiet and shy, just like her. For someone so tall, he was an excellent dancer, as was she; their movements were attuned to each other’s, and the dance passed with ease. 

Eventually, Bertholdt broke the silence. “Miss Lenz. Your performances on the pianoforte are quite revered, are they not?”

Krista blushed. “Well,” she said, taking his hand and she turned, “I enjoy playing immensely, and others can share that enjoyment, then I am overjoyed to provide entertainment.”

“Fascinating,” Bertholdt muttered. Then, louder: “You must do me the privilege of hearing you play, Miss Lenz.”

“I would be honored,” she replied.

They both bowed as the song came to an end. As Krista looked up at the man, she thought to herself that perhaps this would not be as bad as she had thought. His gentleness had shocked her; previously, she had found all men to be as arrogant as Mr Kirstein. She smiled, then, a genuine smile, without a hint of falsity. With her nerves beginning to die down, Krista felt more comfortable in making conversation with Mr Hoover as he walked her back to her seat. 

They talked of their lives at home. Bertholdt told her of his estate, and how he enjoyed to ride his horse and fish on the lake his family owned; in turn, Krista told him about her pianoforte. 

“The music keeps me company,” she said. “I never knew my mother; she passed when I was born. It can get awfully lonely.”

“That is simply terrible,” he replied, his tone whole and sincere. “If I can help any way in ending that loneliness, then please, let me know.”

Krista looked down to avert her eyes from Bertholdt’s. She looked back up to see Mr Kirstein kneeled in front of her. 

“My lady,” he drawled. “I do believe you owe me a dance.” 

Krista gave Bertholdt an apologetic look as Mr Kirstein took her arm. He smiled goodbye, and soon, Krista was dancing with Jean. 

“Miss Lenz,” the man said as they danced, “on the upcoming Sunday, would you do us the honor of hearing you play at our church?”

Krista span under his arm and smiled. “I should love to, of course. You and your father must visit to arrange the details.” 

“That would be most pleasant,” he replied. Despite a few fumbles, he was a good dancer, but nowhere near as skilled as Bertholdt. Krista actually found herself looking forward to dancing with him again, much to her own shock. She still did not wish to get married, but at least she found Mr Hoover amiable. 

When the song ended, she then danced with Eren Jaeger, dressed in his military uniform, then Armin Arlert, a quiet, short boy; a bookish type who knew Mr Jaeger well. Soon after their dance, she was able to find Sasha; they ran to a secluded corner to talk. 

“Krista, my friend,” Sasha swooned, her cheeks flushed red. “Most positively… I have fallen so quickly in love, I can scarcely believe it!” She jumped merrily. 

“Might that be with Mr Springer?” Krista laughed. 

“Oh stop! I may just die!”

“That is wonderful news, Sasha! May I ask when the wedding shall be?”

“Take mercy on me, I cannot take a second more! Must you tease me so?” Sasha wailed. “Wait! But what of you? I did see Mr Hoover looking upon you most amicably!”

The smile disappeared from Krista’s face. “Well, he certainly is amiable. It is just… My grandmother wishes very much that we should be married, given our status…”

Sasha looked sadly upon her friend, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know things will work out quite okay, Krista. There are plenty worse men, after all!”

“I have no complaints of his character, as of yet,” said Krista, “I just object to leaving my father behind, and… I don’t yet want to be married.”

“He’ll be okay,” Sasha offered. “But there really is nothing to offer but say you shall get used to it eventually. That’s if it does go ahead.”

“Girls!” Elizabeth Lenz suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “What are you doing here? Krista, you must get back to the ball!” 

Luckily, it appeared as if she hadn’t heard a thing, but still the girls parted ways with reluctance. Krista returned to her seat, and it was not long before Bertholdt returned. 

He smiled and extended his arm to her again. “Would you do me the pleasure of a second dance, Miss Lenz?” He asked. 

“Most certainly,” she replied. 

This dance was far more upbeat, and Krista found herself laughing to the jig. Bertholdt joined in, and soon Krista was the happiest she’d felt in the last week as she span and jumped to the song. She caught the eye of Sasha, who was once again dancing with Mr Springer; the two girls beamed, and shared a laugh as they passed each other in the dance. Krista stopped worrying so greatly about her impression, and instead allowed herself to have fun. 

“I love this song!” Krista felt as carefree as anything while dancing, and engaged in vigorous and lively conversation with Bertholdt, who seemed to hang off her every word. She even tripped once while dancing; luckily, Bertholdt found this endearing as she fell into his arms. 

Universal applause met the end of the song. Everyone in the room was clapping wildly, except for Krista’s grandmother; who was glaring at Krista with a stony expression. After exchanging formalities with Bertholdt, Krista excused herself, and made her way through the hall to her grandmother, who looked furious. 

“You are extremely lucky the carriage has arrived early. We are leaving. Go quickly, now, and make your apologies to Mr Hoover for leaving; and try to behave like a respectful woman.”

“Yes, grandmother,” Krista said, head bowed with shame. She was not yet sure of what she had done. After making her excuses to Bertholdt, the young man seemed dismayed, but wished her a safe trip home. 

When Krista returned to her, Mrs Lenz grabbed her granddaughter’s arm with a painfully tight grip, and pulled her out of the hall and outside. 

“Into the carriage. Now,” the woman spat. 

Tears pricked at the corners of Krista’s eyes as she got into the carriage. Ymir was sitting at the front, reigns in her hand. Immediately, her presence was comforting to Krista, but as her grandmother followed her into the carriage, her nerves began to overwhelm her. 

“I hardly know where to begin with you,” the woman started. “You are an utter disgrace. Where are your morals, you provocative swine? Could you barely contain yourself?”

“Grandmother, please, you are misunderstanding; I was simply enjoying the dance-”

“Enjoying the dance! O, child, you make me laugh! I told you to make him fall in love with you, not push yourself upon him! You are a disgrace to your family!” 

Tears streamed down Krista’s face and she struggled to keep herself from sobbing. She hadn’t wanted to go to the ball, she hadn’t wanted to try and persuade this man to marry her. For all of her life she had strived to please her grandmother and to make her father proud; and the one time in her life she allowed herself to let go of all inconveniences, her grandmother… did this. 

Krista saw Ymir’s shaking hands gripping the reigns hard as she drove the carriage. She was angry? Krista had not the mentality to begin pondering this question; all she could do was hate herself more and more with each step the horses took. She dreaded the prospect of her father’s disappointment, of his tired eyes growing sadder at her failure: at her disgrace. 

The rest of the journey passed in silence, Krista’s tears falling steadfast and with no sign of stopping. When they reached home, Krista went straight to her room, with one last comment from her grandmother for company.

“Even your mother had the decency to act with some degree of grace.” 

She shut the bedroom door and sank onto her bed, wailing, and cursing herself for being such a horrible, selfish person. She lifted her arm to wipe her tears and her eye caught sight of her mother’s bracelet, which only made her cry more; with her left hand, she unclasped it, and placed it in a drawer where she would never have to look at it again, never have to be reminded of the mother she didn’t have. 

“Perhaps it is better… that she isn’t here… If she was, then there is no doubt… I would disappoint her too.” Krista muttered to herself between sobs. 

“Don’t ever say that.” 

Krista gasped and looked up. There she was, her figure a silhouette in the doorway. The maid.

“W-what?”

“I said, don’t say that. Why are you crying?”

“You were there… in the carriage. You know what I did.”

“And that makes you wrong? Why are you crying?” 

“I-I disgraced my family!”

“That’s what she told you.” The maid took a step forward and shut the door behind her. “Can’t you see that she’s the one that’s wrong here? You simply danced; I cannot see a reason for tears.”

“But- but she said-”

“Miss Lenz. You said you were just enjoying the dance, is that correct?”

“Well, yes, but-” 

“Then there is no question. She is wrong. Besides, why care if your family is disgraced? You enjoyed yourself, and nothing matters any more than that. Live for one’s self, that is what I say, and the only rule I live by; Miss Lenz, I implore you to stop this pointless crying, for there is no need for it.”

Krista sniffed, and looked up at the girl. “Why are you saying these things, Ymir? What on earth could make you care this much for another person, if living for yourself is all you care about?” 

“I could not have asked a better question, but I’m afraid I have no answer to it. Let me tell you this, instead: there was once a time in my life where I had to make a choice between making myself happy, and others miserable; or others happy, and myself miserable. Which do you think I chose?”

“The former, I would imagine.” 

“Correct. And may I imagine that you would choose the latter?”

“Without question; it is the obvious choice. What would compel you to pick the first?”

“We are all people with the power to choose, are we not?” Krista nodded; Ymir continued. “In that case, we all hold the responsibility of our emotions. If I choose to make someone else happy over myself, then I become trapped in a sadness I have no control over. When I consider myself, and myself only, I end up free, and I leave others to decide their own happiness for themselves. Which would you rather be, Miss Lenz? Trapped, or free?”

With that, she left the room, leaving Krista feeling only more terrified. She lay awake for hours, thinking of what Ymir had said, and wondering if there was any truth to her words. When she finally fell asleep, it was with dry eyes, and thoughts of the maid and her words of such unsightly selfishness that somehow, somewhere in Krista’s mind, made sense.


	4. An Unexpected Letter

Krista had spoken only once again to her grandmother before she left in disgust the next morning, to tell her of Mr Kirstein’s offer at the church; she seemed disinterested, still angry. The maids had heard of what happened, and tried to accommodate as best as they could for Krista; at her request, Miss Peters and the head cook sat with her for breakfast. Their words were kind and smiles soothing, but Krista couldn't shake the dirty feeling that she had done something very, very wrong.

After breakfast, Krista walked to her father’s room, and stood against the door, arguing with herself as whether to knock. Eventually, she persuaded herself to go in and speak to him.She told him everything; he didn't say a word until she had finished. When she did, Krista recoiled at the furious glare in his eye.

“She said what?” He sat up in bed. Krista looked down. “That even my mother had the decency to act with grace.” She mumbled.

For the first time in a week, Krista’s father got up from his bed. Krista waited nervously outside while he dressed until the door opened with a crash and her father came striding out with a steely expression on his face. He walked straight past her and to their downstairs study.

“Father! What are you doing?” No answer. “Father!”

He reached the study and quickly gathered writing materials before sitting at the desk. “I am writing a letter to your dearest grandmother,” he said as he began writing furiously on the paper, “to let her know that she is no longer welcome in this house.”

“Father, no! You simply cannot! It’s my fault, not hers! My behaviour was unacceptable!” Krista said, despite Ymir’s words still echoing in her mind.

“That kind of language is not excusable; it is simply abhorrent, and I have had enough of her disregard for your mother.”

“Please, father, I implore you to think; you will destroy our relation with her even more than I have!”

Krista was torn in two; was this her fault, or had she really done nothing wrong? Still, she did not wish for ties to be severed between her and her grandmother; for despite her lack of amiable qualities, the woman was accomplished, and had acted as Krista’s governess all these years, insisting that she was perfectly capable of bringing the girl up herself.

He didn’t listen to her, instead storming past her again and outside to try and find Miss Peters, who dealt with the post, just as a carriage made its way into view. Krista didn’t recognise it, nor did her father; they both stopped to watch as it came to a halt several feet from them. The door opened, and out stepped Jean Kirstein and his father. Mr Lenz tucked the letter into the pocket of his jacket and breathed deeply to regain his composure.

“Good morning to you both,” Jean said, surprised to see Krista’s father. “I hope we are not intruding?”

“Not at all; please, come in.” Krista’s father bowed and escorted the two men inside and to the sitting room, where they were served tea.

“We do not have much business; we simply came to discuss the arrangements for Sunday.” Said the elder Mr Kirstein, while the younger stared at Krista. “Miss Lenz, do you still wish to play for us? I hear that we shall have a full church, thanks to the return of the officers.”

“That would be wonderful, sir.” Krista smiled and tried to ignore Jean’s gaze. “I shall arrive for nine o'clock to make preparations, if that is agreeable.”

“Perfectly.” The man smiled.

“Miss Lenz,” Jean said, “might I enquire as to why you left the ball early yesterday night? I had rather hoped to dance with you again.”

Krista panicked as she relived the memories of her grandmother’s anger in the carriage. Searching for any excuse that might seem believable, she quickly told him that her grandmother had not been feeling well, and that she had gone with her. Krista felt exceedingly anxious, but the thought of Ymir’s words soothed her, and kept the tears at bay.

“Ah, I am sorry to hear that. I pray that she becomes well soon. I hope to see you at the next ball, too.” He smiled and sipped his tea.

“How are you faring, Mr Lenz?” Jean’s father asked.

“Very well, thank you, and yourself?” The man replied. Krista admired his innate ability to lie to strangers, and wished she could be the same. It was only the thought of Ymir and her strange words that was able to calm her enough to mask the lie in her words. Krista wondered if her father ever thought about her mother like that.

Strained conversation was held for a while longer before the men left, and Krista was left alone with her father again. They remained in the sitting room, and Krista watched silently as her father retrieved the letter from his pocket with shaking hands.

“Krista… take this from me. I have not the courage to send it, and I do not want to think of it a second longer.” He placed it on the table and walked back upstairs, leaving Krista alone.

Krista took the letter from her father, and held the crisp paper in her hands, turning it over several times. As she stared, the door opened, and Ymir stepped inside and began clearing up the table. Krista watched her.

Neither girl said a word. Krista just studied her face and wondered who she could be. Ymir’s hair was falling out of its braid and over her face, obscuring parts of her tan skin from Krista’s view. She counted every freckle on Ymir’s cheeks, studied the simple design of her dress, memorised every aspect of her face and the way her body curved as she leaned over. Every part of her was different in some way to Krista, and she found this fascinating; it was like Krista could not look at Ymir for long enough. With every second that passed Krista found something else to admire about Ymir; even her choice of ribbon was mesmerising. Krista didn’t notice her pounding heart or dry mouth until Ymir turned to her.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” She asked. Krista gripped the letter tightly.

Krista struggled to think of a reply; she was far too lost in her own thoughts of Ymir. Why was she looking at her like that? She sighed and balled her fists.

“I wouldn’t,” Ymir continued. “Given the choice, I would send it.”

“W-were you listening in on us?”

“I see no harm in simply delivering it to her, your father wrote it, after all!”

“You’re not listening-”

“Miss Lenz, I strongly advise that you send that letter. Do you not feel angry at what your grandmother did to you?”

“No, and I do not want to send it!” Krista finally raised her voice. Ymir looked startled as the door opened and Miss Peters walked in. She bowed and handed Krista a letter.

“Do you have any letters you wish to send, Miss Lenz?” She asked. Ymir looked at Krista pointedly.

“No, thank you,” Krista said curtly, as she tucked the letter out of view.

Ymir looked at her and smiled. “I knew you could say no.” She said, before following Miss Peters out of the room.

Krista was stunned. “I knew you could say no…” She muttered under her breath. “Was she testing me?” Krista hardly knew what to think. There again was the maid, forcing Krista to realise she was free to make decisions for herself. But why? Krista hoped she would receive an answer to this question before it consumed her.

She thought for a few minuted before remembering the letter Miss Peters had handed her. She did not recognise the handwriting, but when she opened the letter, she saw that it was from Mr Hoover. Krista gasped once she read the name; could it really be that she had not disgraced herself so devastatingly?

To Miss Krista Lenz,

It would be the greatest pleasure for me to invite you to dine at my temporary residence at the Trost estate tomorrow evening. I have sent also a letter to your grandmother, expressing my misfortune at your early departure from the ball yesterday night, and inviting her to join us. My good friend Reiner Braun shall also be attending, as well as Miss Annie Leonhart, his dearest cousin. Of course, you are both welcome to stay the night and depart the next morning, for I am sure the journey would be long, and I do not wish for two respectable ladies to be travelling so far in the dark.

I hope to hear back from you most urgently,

Bertholdt Hoover.

Upon finishing the letter, Krista clutched it tightly to her chest. “My grandmother… might she forgive me now? Might this have saved my reputation with her?” She whispered, allowing a glimmer of hope to spark in her chest. Flustered, she put the letter down and went to take a solitary turn in the gardens.

The morning sun shone upon the garden, bouncing off the dewy leaves and making them shimmer. Krista closed her eyes and allowed herself to appreciate the silence of the crisp air. The faint breeze tickled loose tendrils of her hair as she walked by the banks of a small stream, where tiny fish darted along the uneven surface of the bed with the flowing water. The branches of tall oak trees wave with the breeze, casting moving shadows along the garden. Flowers of every kind followed the path on which Krista walked; she stopped to appreciate their splendid colours.

To dine with Mr Hoover. Krista thought of every possibility, and concluded that she would have to perform impeccably to win back the favour of her grandmother. Krista had stopped thinking of whether she really wanted to marry Bertholdt; now, she cared only about reconstructing her family. After her walk, she went inside to see the head cook, who was pleased to see Krista in high spirits again.

Krista decided to practise on the piano for a few hours. As she played, part of her hoped that Ymir would come to listen, but the room remained empty. She knew that word had to be coming from her grandmother soon, surely, but nothing arrived until four o’clock. When she heard a knock on the door, she span around immediately, hoping it would be Ymir, but it was Miss Peters, holding a letter. The maid bowed and left, and Krista was sure she could hear two sets of footsteps and muffled conversation as she went.

The letter was indeed from her grandmother, who must have sent someone to deliver it. Krista could not deduce her grandmother’s mood from it, but decided she must at least have a small chance, for if not, she doubted that the old woman would not have written at all. The letter told her that she must attend the dinner without question, and that they must stay the night. Her grandmother would be visit the next day and they would travel to the Trost estate together. Krista was dreading the carriage ride with her grandmother, and hoped it would be Ymir leading the horses. 

Krista did not see any of the maids for the rest of the day, except for when she ate; she shut herself in the drawing room and began designing a new dress. She thought of her challenge the next day, and knew that in order to make her grandmother happy, she would have to become miserable; the opposite of what Ymir told her to do. But what other choice did she have? Krista held her head in her hands, and tried to convince herself that was she was doing was right, even though, deep down, she knew that it was not what she wanted.


	5. Trost Estate

Krista gasped at the beauty of the Trost estate as their carriage stopped in front of it. The buildings were colossal, and a fabulous display of wealth; so much so that even Mrs Lenz was impressed.

"I expect nothing short of perfect behaviour. You were more than lucky to receive this chance, and you will not be blessed with another." The woman said curtly.

"Yes, grandmother." Krista bowed her head in shame.

They were received at the door by a maid and taken to a sitting room, where Bertholdt, Annie, and Reiner were waiting. A huge smile spread across Bertholdt's face when they came in; he stood immediately and Annie rolled her eyes.

"Miss Lenz, Mrs Lenz, it is so good to see you here!" He smiled happily. "We have an hour or so before we are due to dine."

Krista smiled in return, curtsying politely. The room was beautifully decorated tastefully with portraits and other works of art, and tall bookshelves were placed in numerous places around the room. A beautiful piano sat in the corner, waiting to be played.

While Mrs Lenz occupied herself with a book, Krista and Bertholdt made conversation. Krista told him of her arrangements at the church, and he said he would be happy to attend.

"What about you, Reiner, Miss Leonhart?" He asked.

"How many times have I told you not to call me Miss Leonhart? I hate it." Annie snapped at him. Mrs Lenz looked at her, disdain obvious in her eyes.

"A-Annie. My apologies," Bertholdt offered, but she merely glared.

"What a distasteful young woman," Mrs Lenz whispered to Krista. Krista looked over at Annie. She was short, and blonde, just like her, but that was where their similarities ended. Annie had a long, sharp nose, and a fire in her blue eyes that was almost terrifying. Her hair was pulled back into a bun on the back of her head, with a few strands falling over her right eye. Krista was immediately intimidated by her and recoiled noticeably.

"Miss Lenz, there is no need to be threatened by my dear cousin; I can assure you that she is not as displeasant as she first appears." Mr Braun laughed. Annie's eyes shot daggers at him. "And yes, Miss Lenz, I will be attending the church on Sunday, and I very much look forward to hearing you play. You have been spoken of very highly by almost everyone I have talked to here."

Krista smiled back weakly, blushing. "Thank you very much, sir."

"Mr Hoover, please, tell me; how long do you plan to stay in Trost?" Mrs Lenz asked.

"Most likely only for two months or so, though the buildings are just lovely, don't you think?"

"Oh most definitely, they are something rather splendid." She replied.

The conversation passed for a few minutes more before each member of the party found something to do; Annie and Mrs Lenz read, while Krista worked on her newest design for a dress, and Reiner wrote a letter to his brother. Bertholdt was content with simply sitting, and throwing numerous glances at Krista as she worked.

It felt like hardly any time had passed at all before dinner was served. Krista was seated next to Reiner and opposite Annie, who was next to Mrs Lenz. Bertholdt sat at the head of the table, though he looked rather embarrassed about it. Krista was quiet for the first course; she was so terrified of saying something that would displease her grandmother that she said nothing at all. Her answers to questions were short and her smiles were painfully fake.

"Miss Lenz." Annie said; Krista jumped. "Why must you act? There is something fake in your eyes."

Krista had no idea what to say. "W-well, I-"

"Miss Leonhart. Why must you be so unladylike? Do you not think that an entirely inappropriate question?" Mrs Lenz glared at Annie. Krista was not sure if she was more shocked by Annie's question or her grandmother's response to it.

"I have not the time or stupidity to play the lady in this society. There are plenty more women to do that." She shot a glance at Krista.

"Of course not," Mrs Lenz said, her eyes narrowed.

The woman's face contorted with disgust before Reiner changed the subject to his military work. The conversation became fraught and Krista was uncomfortable to the point where she felt a headache beginning to creep behind her eyes. Bertholdt saw this and looked concerned. The tension between Mrs Lenz and Miss Leonhart was reaching an unbearable level, with Annie shooting glares at the older woman, who was muttering criticisms to her granddaughter.

Despite the discomfort it caused, Krista saw the hatred between them in one good light; her grandmother seemed to have forgotten of Krista's behaviour now that Annie had angered her.

"You look pale, Miss Lenz, are you feeling alright? Is there anything I can get for you?" Bertholdt asked.

"No, sir, I'm fine. Thank you." Krista said; she did not want to inconvenience Bertholdt.

"You clearly are not fine." Annie said. "Why not just accept the offer of help?"

Krista turned to her. "There is no need to complain about a minor headache," she said.

"That is fine, Miss Lenz. Though do let us know if there is anything we can do." Bertholdt said. Krista smiled at him.

For the rest of the meal, small talk was the only discussion. Krista gave her compliments to the cook and to Bertholdt when the meal ended, doing her best to be as polite as possible. Her headache was getting worse, but she ignored it as best as she could.

Krista and her grandmother were shown to their rooms by Bertholdt, who seemed more than happy to oblige when providing anything for Krista. They remained in the sitting room for a while, and Krista finished the design for her next dress. Annie asked to see it, and she approved; Krista was surprised to learn that she had a good knowledge of sewing, despite being 'thoroughly disinterested' in it.

After a little while, much to Krista's surprise, Mrs Lenz retired to her room, saying that she was tired and wanted to rest. Krista was shocked that her grandmother had left her alone after what ad happened at the ball, but supposed that Miss Leonhart had infuriated her to the point where she had to leave. Bertholdt came to sit with Krista, and they entered a happy discussion.

"Do you enjoy riding, Miss Lenz?" He asked.

"I find it quite entertaining, but I possess no talent at the sport, unfortunately." Krista smiled in return.

"That is a shame. My family own many horses; it is natural for us all to ride. Even my cousins love to, especially-" He cut off suddenly, looking to the left and shaking his head. "My apologies."

Krista looked at him with concern. "Are you quite alright, Mr Hoover?"

"He's fine, don't worry about him." Reiner said. "Bertholdt, shall we change the topic?"

"Bertholdt's cousin died." Annie said to Krista unapologetically.

"Annie! You can't just-"

"It's quite fine, Reiner, Annie is correct." Bertholdt said. "It is true, a most beloved cousin of mine died in an accident with a horse just last year." He looked down sadly, a lock of brown hair falling over his sorrowful eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Krista said, unsure of what to do.

He looked back up, his expression once again happy. Krista suspected that he was just as good at hiding his emotions as she. "It is not of matter; I am fully recovered now." Annie threw her eyes to the ceiling, clearly disbelieving, but Bertholdt paid her no attention. "So, Miss Lenz, you must do me the pleasure of riding with you at some time. Perhaps I could give you a lesson or two."

"It would be a pleasure, sir, for I certainly need teaching." She laughed happily, knowing her grandmother would be pleased with her; or at least less angry. He smiled back in response, the happiness restored in his kind eyes. Krista thought about how much she really did like him. He was kind and gentle, just like she was. He seemed a little clumsy, and good humoured, and those were both qualities that Krista found endearing. She was suddenly grateful for his kind personality.

The date was set; it was for Sunday, after her performance in the church. Reiner and Annie would also ride with them. Krista was incredibly excited to be without her grandmother for some time; the idea of socialising with these new people without having to constantly worry about her appearance seemed like a blessing. As she spoke with them, she got more used to Annie's strange manner of speaking, Reiner's jokes, and Bertholdt's eagerness. She felt more relaxed without her grandmother there, and her headache receded.

Though soon Krista became tired, and when Reiner announced that he was retiring to his room, Krista said the same. They said their farewells; as the door to the sitting room closed behind them, Krista was sure she heard a hasty whisper pass from Bertholdt to Annie, though she could not make out any of the words. Reiner walked Krista to her room, and said goodnight when they reached the door.

Krista undressed and lay in bed, gazing up at the ceiling. She thought about her day and how strange it had been. Krista was once again meeting people that confused her profoundly; first Ymir, with her strange mannerisms and fiery words, then Annie, who spoke as harshly as a man, but with the beauty of a woman.

"What other strange females shall I meet?" Krista laughed quietly to herself as she fell asleep under the soft sheets in the Trost estate.

Krista awoke the next morning to the soft tweeting of birds outside and the sweet aroma of tea on the bedside table. Slowly, she got out of the bed and dressed, hoping that her grandmother would be pleased with her. Krista had slept better than she had in a week; she had not awoken once, and felt refreshed as she made her way to her grandmother's room next door.

"Enter," was the response when Krista knocked. The old woman was sat up in bed, perspiration covering her pale face.

"Grandmother, are you alright? You look dreadful!" Krista said when she saw her.

"I am fine." The woman said curtly, though her voice shook slightly. "I am merely feverish. I can say with certainty that it shall pass."

Krista placed a hand on her forehead; it was very hot. The girl looked worriedly at her grandmother, but took her word and instead told her of the arrangements she had made with Bertholdt to go riding.

"Will that ghastly Annie Leonhart be there?" She asked. When Krista confirmed, she angered considerably. "No wonder Mr Hoover was so tolerant of your frightful behaviour, if that is the kind of lady he chooses to travel with! She was positively foul."

Krista chose not to say a word, despite disagreeing with her grandmother; she liked Annie, in a strange way, but held no intention of returning to her grandmother's bad side, for she thoroughly disliked it there. She could scarcely believe her luck that her grandmother appeared to be speaking normally to her again.

They broke fast with Reiner, Annie and Bertholdt before making preparations to leave. Mrs Lenz invited Bertholdt to dine with them after their ride, along with Annie and Reiner, albeit rather reluctantly. Bertholdt agreed enthusiastically and bade them farewell as their carriage arrived to take them home.

Krista and her grandmother spoke of the Trost estate's beauty as their carriage drove them home. The perspiration from her grandmother's head was gone, but her cheeks were still devoid of colour, which worried Krista slightly. She worried for her grandmother's health, but knew that the old woman would recover without a doubt.

Krista was disappointed to see that it was not Ymir that led the carriage, for Krista strangely loved her presence.

They had arrived back home before midday, and Krista's father joined them for lunch. The man, whose presence was a surprise to both females, seemed tense and angry, but only Krista knew why. She made sure to give her father reassuring glances whenever he seemed the most upset, trying silently to tell him that everything was alright now.

After they dined for lunch, Krista retreated to her piano, where she began practising for Sunday's service; after all but twenty minutes, she felt a presence behind her. Ymir was once again watching her practise. Krista felt her stomach turn when she saw her, but ignored the taller girl and carried on playing. Ymir smiled at this, and watched as Krista played, entranced by her effortless motion and passion.

The days leading up to Sunday passed with an excruciating slowness; Krista saw nobody but her father and the maids. She had told him of their trip to the Trost estate and the unofficial, unspoken reconciliation between her and her grandmother thanks to the bewildering Miss Leonhart. But he had seemed disinterested; his ever-changing mood swings had reached an unprecedented low, so Krista was once again left with nobody to talk to. Even Ymir seemed scarce; Krista had barely seen her.

On Saturday night, Krista lay awake, too excited for the next day to sleep. With the absence of any company, she had fine-tuned the pieces she had prepared, and was anticipating a happy day, despite her nerves at the prospect of her three new acquaintances coming to dine at their estate. Krista shrugged away the thought, instead focusing on the day ahead of her, and getting some well-needed sleep.


	6. Horseback

Krista admired the bustling crowd as the made their way into the church. She had not seen this many people there in a long time. She sat at the piano in the church and watched as flocks of families, officers and even the maids from her estate sat down at the pews. The morning sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, casting colours around the busy room. Krista smiled; such beauty was magnificent to see after being inside and alone for so long. She check the order of her music once again. When she was satisfied that it was all correct, she began to search for Bertholdt, Annie, and Reiner through the crowd, scanning the pews to find their faces. She could not see them yet.

"Miss Lenz," Mr Kirstein had appeared behind her. He was dressed in the pastor's robe and carried the Bible in his hand. "Thank you once again for joining us."

"It is my pleasure." Krista replied.

"No, no, the pleasure's all mine! I believe we shall be starting the sermon after you play, which shall be at 10 o'clock, if that is agreeable."

"Perfectly."

"My father has given me the honor of taking the sermon today. I know it will go well. And with such a huge gathering!" He exclaimed, gesturing to the almost full pews.

Krista laughed, but disguised it as a cough. "I'm sure," she said.

"My, are you alright? I hope you are not coming down with a cold of some sort. Oh! That reminds me," Jean said. "Your grandmother sent word this morning; she said she was not feeling well. She says to inform Mr Hoover and his friends that they are still welcome to dine at her estate nonetheless."

Krista looked up, startled. "What did she say?" She asked, worried for her grandmother. Krista hadn't seen her since they visited Trost, but she had assumed that she would be here, or at least have written to say she was unwell.

"She simply said that she had a headache, and that it was nothing of concern. Miss Lenz, I implore you not to worry. Your grandmother is not a dishonest woman, and I admire her for that. If she was very ill, she would inform us, I am sure of it."

Krista was contented slightly with that answer. She went to give her thanks, but as she opened her mouth, she caught sight of Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt walking through the open doors of the church. Every head in the room turned to look at them; they seemed flawless The lively conversation of the church receded to a hushed silence as they watched them. Less than half of the people seated had been to the ball at the Jaeger's, and so had never met the people in person. Yet they all knew who they were; every person seemed to know of Bertholdt's status, Annie's beauty, and Reiner's rank. Bertholdt caught Krista's eye and smiled as they went to find their seats.

Jean walked up to the altar and set down his Bible before clearing his throat. "Thank you all for attending our service on this fine morning. To welcome the officers and newcomers to our church, the wonderful Krista Lenz shall be performing a few pieces for us on our church's wonderful pianoforte. Miss Lenz, if you would," Jean gestured to Krista and the church clapped.

Krista took in a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves before beginning to play. The piece was simple; she was starting with her favourite, the very same one she had played for Ymir the first time they had spoken. As she played, her mind drifted back; how strange it felt to think of that day now. It was as if the peculiar maid had been there forever, though Krista knew nothing about her at all. She thought of Ymir's strange manner of speaking, her electrifying laugh; Krista could almost hear it entwining with the notes that sparked from underneath her hands as they glided over the keys. A sigh escaped her lips. Krista wished that her grandmother was here to see her play, to be proud of her and to listen to the music that Krista loved so dearly to play. She wished that Ymir was there too, behind her, listening from the other side of the door.

The church erupted into applause as the piece ended; Krista was startled. She had hardly noticed that she had finished the song, and had not even been paying attention to the notes she was playing. She thought to herself how lucky she was that the piece had been ingrained to her memory and that she could play it without thinking. She looked up to Bertholdt, he was staring at her, his eyes glimmering with fascination and awe. She waved and smiled while arranging the music for her next piece.

Chopin's minute waltz; it was one of the most challenging pieces Krista owned. Incredibly fast, she had to work hard to keep up with the notes, or they would run away without her. As was common for her when playing difficult pieces, she kept forgetting to breathe, and as she ended, she gasped for breath, but was immensely proud of herself, for this was the piece she had struggled the most with during her practise.

As she played her final two pieces, her nerves finally settled, and she let the music come over her again, and ignored all worries as she directed her fingers to make the music; when she allowed herself to immerse fully, nothing else mattered, nothing but the swoops and swells of the melody and the motion of her hands. Both pieced were less challenging, but just as beautiful, as the Chopin; they passed with no difficulty.

When her performance was over, Jean stood her up to bow, and the church clapped once again; after, she made her way to sit in the pews, and listen to Mr Kirstein's sermon.

It was not too long, for which Krista was thankful, she had been exhausted by the playing, and wanted to conserve what energy she had left for riding with her new acquaintances, whom she dearly hoped would soon become her friends. Krista caught Bertholdt's eye more than once during the sermon, and thought of what they should do later, what they would talk about, what she would learn.

As the bells rang through the church and filled the air, the congregation made their way back outside. Krista waited until the path was clear and went to collect her music from the piano. Jean complimented her playing and suggested coming back soon, and she gave a happy reply before skipping outside. The country air was refreshing after the church's heavy must, as was the warmth of spring.

Krista spotted four horses not far away, accompanied by Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie. Bertholdt waved, beckoning her over. Krista approached nervously, anxious to hear their opinion on her playing. This anxiety was mostly caused by Annie and her high opinion.

"Miss Lenz, might I say, that was simply marvellous!" Bertholdt said when Krista reached them.

Krista blushed and looked at the ground. "W-well, thank you, sir, but I don't know abo-"

"Please. Spare us your false modesty. You know that you play well." Miss Leonhart looked at Krista with an almost mocking look in her eyes.

A humiliating sense of shame washed over Krista. "Thank you," she simply said, averting her eyes to mask her shame. Was there no way for her to win? When she acted as she had been taught to by her grandmother, she was wrong, and when she acted from her heart, she was a disrespect. Krista sighed.

Reiner smiled reassuringly at her. "You still wish to ride with us?" He motioned to their extra horse; Krista thanked him and agreed to the offer. "Perfect. Might I suggest that you should ride on Charity, for she is the smallest of our horses, and the most calming to ride."

Krista approached Charity nervously. After assurance from Bertholdt, she reached to her ivory coat, tracing the patches of light brown. Bertholdt helped her on; Krista took his outstretched hand. Bertholdt shivered and a strange look passed over his face as his hand touched hers for the first time. Krista wondered what that meant and decided to inform of her grandmother of it.

Krista was unsteady on Charity, and felt slightly nauseous, unlike her three companions, who were all perfectly at ease on their horses.

"Where are we headed?" Annie asked, riding on a chestnut horse that was only slightly larger than Krista's.

"There is a beautiful path leading from here to my grandmother's estate. It is smaller than my father's, but holds some beautiful gardens, if you would care to ride that way."

"Of course! I had almost forgotten on your grandmother's kind invitation," Reiner said. Annie let out a small scoffing sound.

"Kind is not the word I would use exactly to describe Mrs Lenz." She said. Krista did not meet her eyes.

"No, Miss Leo- Annie," he corrected himself hastily as her eyes shot daggers towards him, "I implore you to not act with such ill-manner towards Miss Lenz's grandmother. She is very hospitable to invite us to dine."

"I should do as I please, thank you." She curtly replied.

"Annie," Reiner said, catching up to her on his horse. "Would you accept the offer to ride on with me? I wish your company in privacy."

Bertholdt looked up at him, shock evident on his face: he had not known of this. But his friend merely laughed and pulled forward with Annie. Krista watched them ride away together before looking to Bertholdt.

"I must apologise for her behaviour, Miss Lenz." He said, his eyes on Annie. "She… she does not follow the conventions of the average lady. Trust me, she has no intention to hurt you as such; she merely refuses to hold her tongue when she has something to say."

"Oh! It is of no problem, sir, for I like her greatly."

The man chuckled. "It is okay if you do not. But Miss Leonhart has not exactly had the most ordinary of upbringings. She grew up on a prosperous farm, but her mother died when she was but four years old, and her father refused to let anyone but himself raise her. She worked hard on the farm with him and their workers, even though she did not need to. He passed when she was fifteen, and so went to live with Reiner's family. Her home and the farm was taken over by her uncle, whom she has forever loathed. Thus… she has turned out to be quite an exceptional woman. She is not desired by many, though, I do not believe she wishes to be. And she is as strong, if not stronger, than any man I know."

Krista was amazed by the level of respect he showed for her; it was astounding. She admired him deeply for his civility and compassion for others.

They rode slowly from there on, as Krista was nervous. Bertholdt rode a pure black horse; it was very beautiful. "What is her name?" Krista asked.

"Ah, he's a boy, actually. Name is Brimir."

"He's magnificent. Never have I seen a horse with such a pure ebony coat!"

"It was a gift from my aunt and uncle; they own a church rather like your friend Mr Kirstein's, and also breed horses."

"What a wonderful life that would be!" Exclaimed Krista. "I do adore horses, despite their slightly intimidating nature. They are such wonderful creatures, don't you think?" Krista could feel herself teetering on the edge of her behaviour at the party, and reminded herself to stay calm and act properly, instead of becoming excitable and unrefined. With her animation she became even more unbalanced, and tried to remain still.

"Oh, most certainly. They really are beautiful," Bertholdt said, turning his head to direct his eyes at Krista. He admired her for several moments before gripping his reins tighter and pulling back towards her. She was a few feet behind, struggling to maintain balance and keep up with Bertholdt, the more experienced rider. He laughed quietly at her as she struggled to ride. After a few more minutes of this unsteady riding, Bertholdt dismounted and showed Krista how to sit on the horse more effectively.

"Here, look. Sit on the lowest part of the saddle, and try to keep your hands as far down as you can," he guided her hands without touching them, despite his instinct to. "You can place them on Charity's neck if you would like."

Krista began to relax, her posture straight but not rigid, and her legs gripping less tightly against the saddle. Suddenly, the ride began to feel more smooth. Smiling, she began to enjoy herself as she bobbed gently up and down to the steady clopping of Charity's hooves. Bertholdt walked beside her, then ran back to Brimir when he felt she was riding properly. He caught up to her and they talked happily as they rode on the path to her grandmother's house.

After about twenty minutes, they spotted Reiner and Annie waiting for them at the end of the path, their horses tied to a post. Reiner greeted them happily and they travelled the last stretch of the journey as a four to get to the house. It was now around three o'clock, and most of the heat had left the air, replaced by a cool breeze that send waves of gooseflesh across Krista's skin.

"Say, is that the house there?" Reiner asked as Mrs Lenz's small estate came into view.

"Yes, that's it. Might I ask that we travel straight there, for I fear that my grandmother is still not feeling very well, and I wish to attend to her."

"Of course," Bertholdt said, admiring the scenery. "And I say, you were right about these gardens; they are something very beautiful."

Krista thanked him. They travelled for not more than ten more minutes before reaching the stables. Bertholdt assisted Krista off of her horse and the stable boy tied them up before they entered the house of Mrs Lenz.

Her estate was not as large as Krista's, for the richer of Krista's parents had been her mother; despite this, it was very elaborate, and decorated all by the taste of Mrs Lenz. A maid welcomed them at the door and led them to the old woman, who sat in the sitting room, a book open in her lap and a pained scowl on her face.

Each member of the party bowed or curtseyed to her as she stood to greet them. She smiled at Bertholdt, a sight which Krista was not used to seeing; she seemed to have almost forgotten that she had extended her invitation to Annie also, for when her eyes passed over the girl, her foul expression became but more sour. Krista could hear the strain in her grandmother voice as she greeted them.

"Grandmother," Krista said, "are you feeling at all better? I heard from Mr Kirstein at the church."

Annie saw the hurt in Krista's eyes as she spoke.

"I am quite fine now yes. A simple headache, but it has all but receded now. Tell me, did the churchgoers enjoy your performance? Mr Hoover, what did you make of my granddaughter's playing?"

"It was truly wonderful! I cannot express the beauty of it." Bertholdt said in reply.

"Yes, yes, of course. How regrettable that I were to miss it, for I have not heard dear Krista play in months."

At this, Annie was visibly startled. "You have not heard her play? Whyever not?"

"Miss Leonhart. I am simply a busy woman. I do not have time for music."

Annie seemed angry at this fact, though Krista could not of think why that might be. As it had the last time they had all met, tension stretched to an uncomfortable silence, which after several moments, Reiner broke by making conversation with Bertholdt. They spoke of how the regiment he was stationed with would be travelling abroad in but two months, though Bertholdt already knew this, for he was leaving then too, to travel back to his estate. Krista appreciated Reiner's attempt to salvage conversation, but with two women of such different outlooks, strain and unease seemed inevitable.

"Will there be any ball to celebrate this occasion?" Mrs Lenz suddenly asked. When both males answered in the negative, she exclaimed with no warning, causing Krista to let out a small yelp of fright. "Then one shall be held, of course, at the Lenz estate!"

Krista's eyes widened. "Grandmother, what about father? Should he permiss it?"

"Of course he shall. Mr Hoover, you may set the date. When is the day of your departure?"

"That would be the thirteenth of June, Mrs Lenz." He said. "Should you wish for it to be the night before?"

"That would be perfectly agreeable," she said. Krista had not seen such excitement pass over her face in a long time.

More arrangements were made, but Krista hardly took notice, engrossed in thought of the last ball, and how she had behaved. She regretted nothing more, but was thankful that her grandmother seemed to have forgotten about it. A ball at her estate? They had the room to facilitate it, but Krista could hardly imagine her lonely home filled with people.

She let herself fade away into her thoughts as the conversation passed, and when everyone else occupied themselves, she sat and thoughts. Her mind took her its usual place of residence: on Ymir, whom she had begun to miss. Despite how much she enjoyed Bertholdt's company, his presence did not electrify her in the way that Ymir's did.

She was quiet and complacent up until they were called to dine; then, she engaged in small conversation with Bertholdt, purely to please her grandmother. After they had finished, she sat down and let her mind wander while she read a book without taking in any of the words. The party disbanded at around seven o'clock, as Annie, Bertholdt, and Reiner wished to leave before it became dark because they had some miles to travel to return to the Trost estate. Krista was to remain at her grandmother's house until the morning, when she would return by carriage to her own estate.

That night, Krista retreated to her bedroom in a thoroughly tired state. Happy with the progress she had made with horse riding, and pleased with her performance at the church, she considered her a day a good one, despite its tiring length. She fell asleep quickly under the sheets and into a long sleep, filled with fleeting images of riding on horseback.


	7. Pulse

"What makes you so sure you love him?" Krista asked.

"Why, there is not a part of me that is not sure! I love him so very much. It is as if my heart is singing; my thoughts are never without him in, and whenever we are close I feel as if I am about to burst with joy. He is unequivocally the most perfect man I have ever met, with such good humour, and a very quick wit!" Sasha laughed, her beatific expression lighting up her whole face.

"You truly do adore him, don't you?"

"So much! I wonder if he shall propose? Anybody who has seen us together would say that he surely would; oh I do hope it is soon!"

Krista listened to her sing his praises for several more minutes, but Sasha's words faded as she spoke, for Krista's mind had become preoccupied. Was this the way she should feel for someone she would marry?

Krista had become so distracted trying to please her grandmother that she had forgotten what she was actually doing. If things carried on this way, then she would marry Bertholdt. Why? Because her grandmother wanted her to? Krista remembered what Ymir had told her.

We are all people with the power to choose, are we not?

The thought of her sent a shiver down Krista's spine, despite the warmth of the day. Her. Ymir. As thoughts of the maid fogged her mind once again, her mouth went dry.

"Look! See!" Sasha said to Krista. "Do I not look pale? Ah! The nerves are driving me mad!"

Shaking hands, a yearning in her stomach… a pale face. Were these not the feelings Sasha was describing? Why was she experiencing them now; what was going on? They were not directed to Bertholdt, she knew that. The thought of him brought only the smile of friendship to her; she thought of him the way she thought of Sasha.

But… her grandmother. Krista hated to think of the words that her grandmother would shout if she failed to secure his proposal; or worse, if she rejected it. She knew that Ymir would say not to care what her grandmother would say, what she would do, if Krista did what she pleased. Was that worth a lifetime of being married to someone she knew that she did not love? Krista did not know.

"What of Mr Hoover?" Sasha asked. "Is your grandmother still set on you marrying him?

"Yes, she is." Krista replied. "Though I do find him agreeable. He is certainly very kind."

"Just kind? How boring!"

"No, he is very-"

"Spare me, please! I can think of nothing worse than marrying a man I do not love! Are you quite sure? Do you feel no fire? Is there no passion?"

"No," Krista said quietly.

Suddenly, Sasha took one of Krista's hand between hers. "You do not have to. Krista. You have enough money; you are not like me. Just because your grandmother says so, there is no need to marry him."

"Sasha… I must. If not him, then who else? Somebody worse?"

"Somebody that you love."

"I'm afraid I cannot have that luxury."

Sasha looked at Krista, gripping her hand tightly. "I am so, so sorry, Krista. You truly are my dearest friend. I wish for your happiness and nothing else."

Krista let herself feel a few seconds of sadness before forcing a smile onto her face. "No, it is fine. There are many worse things in life."

Sasha smiled a sad smile, but changed the topic of conversation to one more cheerful, though the undertone of sorrow was still present. They walked for some time more, until they found themselves but a five minute walk from Sasha's house. By now it was mid afternoon, and clouds had begun to fill the sky, taunting them with the promise of rain. She complained of her hunger several times more before retreating to her home, leaving Krista to walk the country paths alone. Before she left, Sasha looked Krista in the eyes and smiled before planting a kiss on her cheek and running home, shouting behind her to have a safe trip home.

Krista was once again in solitude as she walked. Her pace was quick, for she wished to make it back before the rain started. Still thinking of what Sasha had said, she compared Sasha's feelings of Connie to her's of Bertholdt; but time and time over she found that she held those feelings for Ymir. Ymir. Her dark hair and her tan skin… Krista wanted to reach out and touch her, to see what she felt like. She felt the urge under her skin, like thousands of angry bees inside of her, buzzing to be let out. She wanted to talk to her, find out where she came from, know what made her happy, what scared her, what she found funny. There was not a single thing about her that did not fascinate Krista.

"Krista!" A quiet shout from the distance. Krista's eyes darted around, trying to source the noise; but there was nothing. Who was that? The only people who called her Krista were her father, her grandmother, and Sasha, so who could it have-

"Krista!" Louder now; Krista turned her head to the noise. There. Over the hill, a figure on horseback, riding faster than Krista had seen anyone ride before; they were speeding towards her, but who was it? It was not until they shouted again that Krista recognised the voice.

The maid.

Ymir's hair was flying out from behind her, loose and untied. Her simple dress billowed out and her ribbon had come untied; the dark green silk trailing behind her. She rode on her horse with the pure black coat, leaving a trail of dust behind her. As she came down the hill she called out again, relief written so purely on her face even from the distance she was at. But she still looked frightened; her hands gripped the reins so tightly that her hands were turning white. Immediately, Krista's heart rate shot up and she ran towards Ymir and the horse.

Krista had no idea what was happening, but she did know that this could be nothing short of urgent, so she ran faster than she ever had in her life towards her maid, the girl she barely knew.

"Krista! You are here, oh, I found you!" The girl did not jump down from her horse as she finally reached Krista. "You need to get on straight away. I promise I will explain as we ride." Her hand urgently extended and she pulled Krista up. As soon as Krista was sat behind her she cracked the reins and they were off, flying down the road.

The sudden jolt nearly sent Krista flying from the horse; if she had not instinctively wrapped her arms around the maid's waist then she knew she would be on the ground. This horse was far bigger than Charity, and going much faster; every scrap of confidence she has acquired was gone, shattered like glass as she reverted to her former method of clinging on as tightly as she could as her body was shaken violently up and down.

"Sit on the lowest part!" Ymir moved forward to allow Krista the easiest place, just like Bertholdt had taught her. She took her feet from the stirrups and told Krista to put her feet in them. Her skill on the horse allowed her to balance perfectly. "Hold on to me and do not let go."

Krista could feel how fast Ymir's heart was beating as her grip tightened around her waist; she could feel the muscles underneath her clothes contracting and releasing as she rode. Her own heart raced in time with the horse's hooves beating the ground. The wind whistled through her ears and her heart was in her throat; everything was so fast, so unlike anything Krista had ever experienced.

"Ymir! What's going on?" She screamed over the rushing wind. Thunder erupted from the clouds; with it, rain began to rush from the sky, pelting down and hitting them like tiny pebbles. Within seconds, Krista's hair was dripping and her back was soaked; she hardly noticed, though, as Ymir was shouting over the downpour, her words slicing through the wind like and piercing her like lightning.

"Your grandmother has fainted, and nobody can wake her!" She shouted. "She was more ill than she would let anybody know. The doctor is on his way, but I did not know what to do but come to find you!"

The news hit Krista like a slap to the face; she fell backwards, her hands losing their grip from Ymir's body. Ymir snapped around, letting go with one hand and catching the back of Krista's neck as she began to topple; but she pulled her forwards, their faces dangerously close, and Krista's eyes closed, the rain mixing with the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. But Ymir turned back, pulling Krista's arms around her again and shouting through the rain:

"Why do you give up so easily? How can you fall with such a state of repose? Because one person is ill, why must you fall too? Damn!" She the reign and the horse sped forward again, pushing against the wind and the rain. "Stop crying! Help me here!"

"It's m-my fault… I angered her… my thoughts of you…" Krista murmured, barely audible over the crashing thunderstorm.

"Stop that! You blame yourself for everything, yet you hold fault for nothing!" Ymir was screaming now.

Krista's eyes fluttered open; her home was coming into view. Something surged through her and she gripped on tighter; Ymir shouted a word of encouragement.

"Then we have to get back! I need to help!" She yelled.

"Yes! Come on! Surtur, do not fail me now! Come on, girl!" The horse sped up again; they were so close to the estate, through the gates than Ymir had left wide open, and straight over the muddy grass as the echoing thunder roared through the sky.

Ymir stopped right at the stables, and jumped down before lifting Krista from the top like she weighed nothing. Ymir watched as this tiny blonde girl, who had previously been as meek as anything, ran into her home, her clothes soaking and plastered to her body. Krista admired her figure before following her in.

"Grandmother!" The maids of the estate watched with shock as a rain-sodden Krista burst through the door. "Where is she?"

"The doctor is attending to her now. Miss Lenz, you must get warm, come and be bathed-" One of the maids approached her.

"Get off of me!" Krista snapped, passing by to the sitting room where her grandmother lay. The doctor was Mr Hanji Zoe, a strange man with long hair and a strange figure, who Krista knew her grandmother hated.

"Miss Lenz," he said to her. "Your grandmother is very ill. May I talk to you?"

More tears spilled from Krista's eyes; she shivered and sneezed. "Of course." She said.

The man handed her a blanket before sitting her down. Krista could see Ymir watching from the doorway. "Has your grandmother mentioned having any headaches? A fever?"

Krista remembered her grandmother at the Trost estate, how she had missed the sermon. "Yes." She replied quietly. "Both fever and headaches. If I had known-"

"You could not have. I have confidence that she will pull through."

Krista looked over to her grandmother she was lying down, her face paler than Krista had ever seen it before. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, and her eyelids flickered but did not open. Krista was scared that this was her fault; scared that her thoughts of defiance had caused the illness of her grandmother. She coughed and sneezed again, pulling the blanket around her closer as she shivered.

"You need rest." Mr Zoe said. Krista tried to defy him; she told him she was fine, that she wanted to stay with her grandmother, but there was nothing she could do. Krista was to be taken to her room by Miss Peters, while Ymir dried herself too.

"Where's father?" She asked tiredly.

"He is in his room, miss." Miss Peters said. "But he refuses to come out. I suggest talking to him tomorrow."

Krista wanted desperately to see him right then, but as the adrenaline faded; fatigue had begun to kick in. She fell asleep as soon as she fell under the sheets. Later, Ymir entered the room to check she was alright; then, the rest of the maids, all with expressions of worry on their faces, for they knew something that Krista did not.

The doctor had lied to Krista; for he was almost positive that there was nothing he could do for Mrs Lenz.


	8. In Sickness

When Krista awoke the next morning, the first thing she thought of was her grandmother. But as she stood up, the corners of her vision turned to black and a surge of pain shot through her head; she fell back onto the bed, coughing. 

The she remembered the night before: Ymir and the rain. She sneezed several times before attempting to stand up again, more slowly this time. When she left her room, still in her clothes from the night before, she went straight down to the sitting room where she had last seen her grandmother. Instead, she saw the head cook, clearing away the table.

“Krista, my goodness!” The woman exclaimed. “My girl, what are you doing, walking around? You must get back to bed!”

“No, my grandmother… where is she?”

“She’s with the doctor. Mr Zoe took her back to her own home.”

“No! But why? I wanted to talk to her!” Another sneeze.

“Krista.” The woman bent down to place a hand on Krista’s shoulder. “You caught a terrible cold out there in the rain last night. When you are better you may go and visit your grandmother.”

“No, I feel fine! Did she wake yet?” Krista argued, but her voice was hoarse from her sore throat. 

“No, but I am so grateful to that Ymir for bringing you home. My, you should have seen her when she knew that it was about to rain.”

“What? What did she do?”

“She was gone before any of us knew it. She kept saying that she wanted to get you home quickly, that she needed to find you and tell you of her grandmother. She even refused to take a cloak so as to get to you faster.”

Krista was confused. It was as if a layer of fog had fallen over her mind; she was finding it hard to think. Hadn’t Ymir told her to be selfish? Then why… why would she do that for her?

“Krista, come on. You need to go back to bed. Your father is sleeping too. I shall tell him to visit you when he wakes; is that agreeable?”

“Yes… thank you.” Krista murmured, letting the cook guide her up the stairs and back to her room. The woman helped Krista to dress into her nightclothes. Krista burrowed under the sheets, squeezing her eyes shut to try and force the headache from her mind. Sleep did not come for a while, as her head and her throat were exceedingly painful.

Krista’s eyes opened again, later, to the sound of a knock on her door. “Father?” She groaned. “Come in.”

A figure opened the door and came inside, but it was not Krista’s father. Through the blurriness of her vision, Krista saw Ymir carrying a tray with tea. As her eyes focused, she saw that Ymir looked incredibly worn out. She looked exhausted, Krista noticed: there were dark circles under her eyes that were not usually there, and her posture slumped.

“Ymir?” Krista’s voice, broken and sore, asked. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Lenz!” Ymir said cheerfully, though her voice sounded just as pained as Krista’s. She noticed that the maid was trying and failing to hide her shiver; as Ymir poured the tea, Krista noticed her hands shaking. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little, yes,” Krista said, noticing that her headache had faded slightly to a dull throbbing in her temples. That did not stop the sneeze. “Can I get up now? I should like to play the piano; I do not want to miss a day of practise.”

“The head cook did warn me of this; no, you may not. You need to rest. If you are ill. then you must stay in bed, or-” Ymir sneezed. 

“Ymir? Are you sick too?” Krista said slyly. If she were bedridden, then it was only fair that Ymir should be too. 

“No!” A cough this time; it echoed around the room. “Maybe so, but,” - she laughed - “I do not have the privilege to simply go to bed-” 

“Of course you do!” Krista was sitting up now, animated. Just being around this maid made her feel better. “I demand it.” 

“Well, miss, if that’s what you would like, then I shall have to agree.”

“Hooray!” Krista exclaimed. She looked the happiest Ymir had ever seen her. 

Ymir poured tea for them both and stood, looking extremely nervous, at the end of Krista’s bed. If Krista had been feeling better, she would have noticed Ymir’s strange behaviour, but she was oblivious to this. Instead, she invited Ymir to sit on the bed with her, just like she might do with Sasha. 

The two girls sipped their tea and talked, for the first time, as equals. Neither said anything of the night before, of the ride through the rain; instead they spoke of music, of art, and of literature. Krista, for once, stopped questioning how Ymir knew of all these things, and instead started listening to what she had to say. She learned that Ymir was not a fan of books, and instead preferred outdoor activities, especially horse-riding. She loved to dance, but could not sing or play an instrument to any notable standard, though she loved music. 

Krista said nothing of her anxiety for her grandmother’s health, and prayed that she would be better by the morning so she could go to visit her. But, in the meantime, both girls lay sick, though neither seemed to care. 

“Goodness, the day has passed so quickly!” Krista remarked upon looking at the time, several hours later. It was almost four o’clock. 

“If I am honest, Miss Lenz, you spent a lot of it sleeping.” Ymir laughed, before descending into a coughing fit. Krista joined in, and soon, she too was coughing.

"It is so late in the day..." Krista looked worried. 

When they had both regained themselves, Krista smiled up at Ymir. She seemed less mysterious now, less daunting, now that Krista had seen her laugh. It was almost as if they were… friends. But soon, Krista’s smile faded; her expression became sombre, and she looked almost sad. 

“Miss Lenz, are you alright?”

Krista watched her. “Must you call me that? When you shouted for me, you called me Krista.”

Ymir’s cheeks were afire; the deep blush was visible even on her tan skin. “If that is what you would prefer, then yes, I will.”

“Do you think she will be alright?”

“Mis- Krista, would you like some more tea?”

“Did Mr Zoe say anything else?” Krista ignored her question and continued.

Ymir poured the tea; it was cold.

“Ymir, please.”

“He said that he was taking her back to her house, to treat her there. She… did not wake up, however.”

Ymir noticed that hurt, small expression on her face. She wanted nothing more than for her and this girl to be happy, yet she did not know what she could do. Ymir could feel her hands shaking; she balled them into fists.

“Thank you,” Krista whispered. 

Ymir’s eyes widened once again; just like the last time the girl had given her her thanks. It was so strange a phrase to hear. “For what?” Ymir asked.

“For coming to find me last night. I do not know what I would have done if you had not found me.”

“No, do not be thankful. I wanted-”

“And I’m sorry I gave up like that. I just thought…”

“What is it?”

“I thought it was my fault.”

“Why would you say that? How could that possibly be your fault?”

“I vexed her. And my thoughts…” Krista’s face was a light shade of pink. Her eyes were filled with tears.

Ymir took in a deep breath and moved forward. Her arm extended; gently, she placed her hand under Krista’s chin and lifted her face so she could look into the girl’s eyes. She hoped Krista could not feel her hand shaking. 

“Never be sorry for anything but not being true to yourself.” Ymir stared into Krista’s blue eyes, wishing that she could wipe the tears away and make everything okay. This feeling was frightening Ymir; she had never felt like she wanted to make anyone else happy before. 

“I just want to make everybody happy.” The tears were falling fast from Krista’s eyes. Ymir watched them spill onto her cheeks, following the path they were making down her face. 

“That is impossible. Remember what I said to you? What would you rather be? Trapped or free?”

Krista let out a low, quiet sob. She pulled back from Ymir’s hand. Lifting her knees to her face, she cried into the fabric of her nightdress. Why? What was this kindness Ymir was showing her? This was nothing she deserved. She was shaking again; her face was hot; her heart pounding. Sasha said those feelings made her happy… But they filled Krista with nothing but anxiety and despair, for she knew that she could never have what she wanted. Unless she picked herself. Put herself before others. 

“I- I can’t do it,” the words came out in a hurried whisper; she gasped as the sobs came from her, filling the silence. She buried her face in her hands and lay down. The worry of what Ymir thought of her was nagging at her, making her cry harder and apologise more. 

Ymir did not notice that she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She could not remember the last time she had cried… even after all she had been through, all that she had done. She wiped the tears away furiously, hoping that Krista would not move, would not open her eyes and see her crying. It terrified her.

There was a knock on the door. Krista sat up immediately, but did not look at Ymir, much to her luck. 

“Come in,” Krista said quietly. The last of her tears had fallen and she wiped them from her cheeks as the door opened.

“Krista?” Her father asked. He looked at Ymir, then to Krista. He looked shocked almost, but happy too; it was a strange sight to see a depressed man’s smile, Ymir thought. “I have just heard that Mr Hoover has arrived here.”

Krista panicked visibly, she tried to smooth her hair and destroy any trace that she had been crying. “Now?” She asked. 

“I can tell him to leave, if you would like.” 

“No!” She said quickly. “Father… May we talk afterwards?”

“Of course. I am sorry I have not been around-”

“No. I understand.” Krista smiled at him before standing up to move into the drawing room attached to her bedroom.

The door slammed behind Ymir as she ran from the room. “Ymir?!” She heard Krista shout, but she was already halfway down the hall, running as quickly as she could. A small cleaning cupboard approached her to the left; she dived in, slamming the door shut. From the cramped darkness, she heard Bertholdt exchanging pleasantries with Miss Peters as they walked past; she cupped her hand over her mouth so as not to make a noise. 

The tears had gone, but the sadness in her lingered; she fought it, trying to stop the feelings. It did not work. The picture of Krista in despair upset her too, and she hated it. 

“I need to stop this. This is madness; it cannot happen again.” She was still shaking and her heart was beating hard in her chest. She heard Miss Peters walk past the door again, with Krista’s father, and knew that Bertholdt was in the room alone with Krista. Ymir hated the jealousy that bubbled inside of her. It made her angry.

When she knew that she would not be seen, she crept out of the cupboard and to the door of Krista’s drawing room. She pressed her ear to the door.

“...so sorry that you are ill. I offer my condolences to you and your grandmother, and pray that you should feel better soon, so that you may visit her.”

“Thank you, sir.” She heard Krista say. The jealousy in Ymir’s chest doubled, as did her anger; she was doing it again - the falseness in Krista’s voice was so obvious. Could nobody else hear it?

Ymir listened avidly to their conversation for several minutes more, angry that Bertholdt was taking up so much of her time when she was ill. The hypocrisy of her thoughts did not occur to her. 

After almost half an hour, Bertholdt finally began to leave. 

“Must you?” Krista asked. Ymir scoffed angrily. “You could stay to dine if you would like…” She sneezed. 

“No, Miss Lenz. You are sick and you need rest.” 

“Okay. Thank you for coming. I appreciate your kindness, sir.”

“It is nothing. I pray you get better soon."

Ymir ran quickly back to her cupboard, avoiding any gaze from Bertholdt as he made his way out of the door, led by Miss Peters. 

Ymir was suddenly incredibly angry at him. How dare he? What could possess him to simply come? Since when were Krista and Bertholdt close enough for that kind of visit? She was muttering to herself in the darkness like some madman, angry and agitated, until, suddenly, the door flew open, and there was Krista, surrounded by the light flowing in from the hallway. 

“What on earth are you doing in there?” Despite the girl’s sore throat, Ymir could hear the accusation in her tone.

“Nothing.” Ymir glared at the floor.

“Well, why did you just run like that?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Oh, I see. It makes all the sense now! You do everything because you want to, do you not?”

“That is correct.”

“Why do you have to act this way? Why must you confuse me so?” She threw her arms into the air, but she just looked weak. “I would like an answer.”

“There is none.” Ymir was lying, but she knew she could not tell Krista the true reason she was hiding. Besides, she found herself to be angry with the girl for her refusal to listen, to take Ymir’s words seriously. Oh, how she wished she could tell her of her past, unveil the secrets she had been hiding for so long. Make her understand the importance of living for herself.

Krista was visibly frustrated. She tried to speak but seemed to be too angry.

“Why did you let him stay?” Ymir asked. 

Krista stared up at her. She had stood up now, and stepped slightly out of the darkness. Her eyes were shining with anger; suddenly, Krista was afraid of her, of this woman she did not know. She seemed older than her. 

“B-because if I do not get this right, then what might happen to might to my grandmother?” 

Ymir’s anger dissipated into the air; she felt Krista getting close to her, she felt her beginning to reach her. Krista took a step forward and lifted her hand to Ymir’s face, about to reach out and touch her hair.

“No.” Ymir shook her head, taking a step back. “I will not do this.”

“What?” Krista said, her eyes glassy and wide. “What do you mean?”

“Marry him then. He adores you. If that is what you want to do, then do it. But do not say I did not warn you of your decision. And know that your choices will not affect your grandmother’s health.” Ymir’s eyes were tight shut, her hand placed to her forehead; she could not take this for much longer. 

Krista did not want Ymir; she just did not want Bertholdt.

With her eyes closed, Ymir did not see the tears falling again from Krista’s cheeks. Ymir walked away, leaving Krista to cry, but this time, she was alone.


	9. Terminal

Krista stared bleakly out of the carriage as her and her father travelled to her grandmother's estate. The rain was falling lazily in drizzles from the pale grey clouds. They dominated the sky; there was not a patch of blue to be seen. It had been three days since she had spoken to Ymir, and Krista was missing her company greatly. She had tried to seek out the girl, to reconcile, but she was never anywhere to be seen. It was only by the reassurance of Miss Peters that she even knew that Ymir was still working for them.

Her sickness had cleared, but the same could not be said for her grandmother; Krista had hardly heard a thing but that she was now permitted to visit. She was nervous and shaky. Her father sat away from her, not looking. She did not try to make conversation; she was lucky that he had even come out of their home.

Krista looked to the stable boy at the front of the carriage and wished it could be Ymir. Wished that she had not been so aggressive towards her, wished she could understand that look in her eyes as she walked away, wished she had not pulled back from her touch.

But, no. Krista did not have the energy to think of those things; she needed to keep vigilant, stay strong. She had to be tenacious enough to see her grandmother in a position of weakness and remain alright.

As the carriage stopped at her grandmother's house, Krista drew in a deep breath. She looked up at the house, with its imposing pillars and baleful height, and mentally prepared herself. Despite the doctor saying that he was sure she would pull through, Krista did not want to be unprepared for anything.

Her father offered her a bleak smile as they walked from the carriage to the door. They were greeted at the door by Mr Zoe and a short man with black hair who did not introduce himself. He had stony, glaring eyes; a stark comparison to Mr Zoe's happy and excitable demeanor.

"Yes, yes," he said, showing them through the door. "I see you are better, Miss Lenz?"

"Yes, thank you." Krista replied quietly. "H-how is my grandmother?"

"Why, you are just in time to see! I had noticed that Mrs Lenz has been making signs that she may wake very soon."

Krista looked to her father, but he did not seem to have heard, or had just not bothered to respond; he was staring blankly into the distance, looking at nothing. Mr Zoe took them to the guest room in which he was treating Mrs Lenz. It was a spacious room, with lots of light flowing in from the large window.

There, lying on the bed, was Krista's grandmother. She looked fragile enough to break; she had already lost much weight. Her skin was pallid and her expression, so normally scornful, looked peaceful. It scared Krista more than she had expected to see the woman she was so afraid of just lying there and looking so infirm. Her breathing, Mr Zoe told her, was less deep; this was apparently the cause for his conclusion.

Krista sat by her bedside, watching the rise and fall of her grandmother's chest as she breathed. Despite everything Ymir had told her she still felt responsible.

Know that your choices will not affect your grandmother's health.

But how could that possibly be true? She was already so old; if Krista caused her any more stress, then she did not know what might happen.

Krista did not know that there was not much more that could be done. Yes, Mrs Lenz was fighting, and she was soon to wake up; but Mr Zoe knew that he could not do anything more than simply delay what would inevitably happen. At best, he suspected that she had two months.

The short man with the black hair walked to the doorway where Hanji Zoe was standing, watching Krista.

"I feel sorry for her." Hanji said quietly.

"Why?" The man replied. "The lady's horrible. She should be glad."

"Levi!" Hanji said indignantly, her angered tone still able to make its way through her whisper. "I have told you, do not talk like that."

"I will talk however I want to."

Hanji chuckled and lazily draped an arm around Levi.

"Do not do that here, Hanji, you wretch; have you lost all sense? What if she look at us? What would she do?"

"Have a little fun, my dear. Look at the girl; she is completely lost in thought. And who knows what goes through her father's mind" The doctor shot a grin in Levi's direction before walking over to Mrs Lenz.

"That woman will be the death of me." He said to himself as he left the room. "I have no idea how she does it."

Hanji took a deep breath in before sitting down next to Krista. Pulling her hair back, she adjusted her posture to appear more masculine. This was the impression he had been giving for years now. To become a doctor was a far-away dream for her as a child. After pretending to be a man, it had suddenly become easy. Instead of loathing the patriarchal society she was part of, she vowed to fit herself around it.

"Who is that man with you, Mr Zoe?" Krista asked, not taking her eyes off of her grandmother.

"My assistant." Hanji replied simply. This was not the whole truth. Levi had been one of her patients. He had had a strong demeanor and a forceful opinion, and she took an immediate fancy to him. After 'accidentally' letting slip that she was indeed a woman, they had gotten together. To be married would mean that Hanji would have to reveal her true identity, so they travelled together as 'colleagues', with levi acting as her assistant.

Krista barely uttered a reply. Her father remained silent.

They remained like that for several minutes, until a stir finally came from Mrs Lenz.

"Is she waking?" Krista asked quickly.

"It seems so," Hanji replied, gathering everything she needed to treat the grandmother. "I hate to ask, but I would need you to leave while she awakens. It would be too overbearing for her to wake to this many people in the room."

"Of course. Thank you." Krista curtseyed and led her father downstairs, where they sat and waited. Krista sipped the tea she had been served and studied the piano in the corner of the room as she awaited her admittance to see her grandmother once again.

As Mrs Lenz stirred from her long sleep, Hanji stood by her. She was glad to see the woman awake, but her mien was not as sound as she might have hoped. After treating her and asking several questions, Mrs Lenz suddenly stopped responding to Hanji and looked at her seriously.

"The girl." She said.

"What about her, ma'am?" Hanji asked.

"She cannot know of how bad my condition fares. She must marry the man. I have told her before, but now is a dire time as ever. You say I have two months?"

"That is my best estimate. Though, that is to say you may recover-"

"Do not be ridiculous, my man. I know when you are lying to me. I may not live to see the ball where I am sure he may propose. Listen," the woman held out a shaky, frail arm, "he must propose to her. But I know Krista. She is weak, and she lets the unhappiness of others affect her too greatly. If she believes that I am to die, and I know that that is the case, then she will let that knowledge affect her behaviour. Do not let the girl know. Let that be my dying wish, as an old woman! In fact… no. I know a better solution."

"What would that be?" Hanji was dubious of the woman's intentions.

"Krista must believe that her actions are in correlation with my health."

After almost thirty minutes of waiting in silence, Krista's father finally spoke.

"You and the new maid. Ymir was it? You seem to have formed a friendship." He said. His voice was strained, but there was an urgency in his words; as if he knew he must make some form of communication. He could see the slump of his daughter's shoulders and knew that he must do something to try and relieve her from her sadness.

Krista was sat at the piano, her back to her father. As tears pricked her eyes, the black and white keys blurred together. She took her hands away and placed them in her lap. Taking a deep breath in to calm her nerves, she gave herself several moments to think of a reply.

"Of sorts," she said finally. She still faced the wall. "Ymir is very strange, however."

"And why may that be?"

"She is unlike any woman I have ever known. She is so fascinating. Everything about her is a mystery, father! Her past, her future; everything is so unclear, so uncertain. She has horribly selfish outlooks, yet… yet she seems to care for me. I wish I could know more about her. I wish I could find out all of her secrets and talk to her about anything - everything! She seems to be the sort of person that could make the bleakest day filled with sunshine."

Krista had finally turned around to face him. He sat, looking at her, with awe in his eyes.

"How jealous I am of you," he said quietly. "My daughter. You are describing my exact feelings for your mother. From the day that I saw her, it was as if my bleak life had taken on a sudden explosion of colour. But when she left… she took all of that colour with her."

"Father…" Krista stood up and walked to him. She knew that he was a broken man, but she had never heard him speak of her mother with such sadness in his voice. His head rested in his hands and he shook slightly. Krista sat down next to him and pulled her feet up onto the chair while she sat with him.

Was this what it was like to lose someone? Krista felt as if she were losing her father herself. She had never known her mother; she had died during childbirth. Krista wondered if her father blamed her for his wife's death. If he was secretly harboring a secret resentment for her, hidden only by the fact that he left his room. But then she thought of that letter he had written. The one she would not read, or send. Krista knew that she could not blame herself for this.

The slow thumping of her father's heart filled Krista's ears; she lay with her head on his chest. He ran a shaking hand across her hair, smoothing it down.

"She would have wanted to you be happy. Your mother loved without fear. I know she would tell you to do the same, Krista."

Krista said nothing. She simply listened, and let her thoughts drift once again to Ymir.

"You must tell your father to write to Mr Hoover and invite him to dinner. Do it tonight! And any dress you design for the ball must be shown to me before it can be made. Once Mr Hoover has dined with you, you must write or visit. I demand every detail."

"But grandmother, should you not be-"

"Krista, please! Stop with the questions. Listen to me. Now more than ever it is essential that you get closer to him. He lives with that wretched woman, that Annie Leonhart - God only knows the things she might say in his company. You have not done enough yet."

"Yes grandmother." Krista bowed her head to the woman. Despite being bedridden, she was as scary as ever.

Krista did not know what more she could do to make Bertholdt love her. There was a limit to how well she could act, and when she tried to be herself and have a good time, her grandmother labelled her a disgrace.

She would have to try harder, do more. See him more often.

But… why?

Why could she not simply just disregard her grandmother's feelings?

Krista was torn in half; in her mind, it was as if two voices were screaming at her. On one side was her grandmother, with her scornful tone and stony words; on the other was Ymir. Ymir. She spoke of freedom and choice, with a vigor and a passion that lit up her whole face, and when she laughed, it was like everything Krista had ever wanted was right in front of her.

If it did not mean giving up everybody else, then Krista would pick Ymir in a heartbeat. But that was not the case. If Krista followed Ymir's words, then her grandmother would surely never forgive her. But if she did not, then would she ever forgive herself?

Krista did not know. She felt guilty as soon as the thought crossed her mind. But she smiled to herself, because it sounded like something that Ymir would say.

"Are you even listening to me?" Mrs Lenz snapped.

Krista blushed and apologised. Lost in her thoughts again; it was happening more and more recently. She had Ymir to blame for that. That girl. Why must she be so alluring?

In the carriage that evening, Krista shared a glance with her father. It made her happy to see him looking at her. She hoped that they could build something on less tenuous foundations. She wanted him around, especially now that her grandmother was ill. Sometimes, Krista even preferred her company, despite how much it hurt her.

She needed her father. Now that her grandmother was bedridden, Ymir was angry at her, and Sasha had fallen in love, Krista ran the risk of losing the only company she had ever had, all at once.

Krista needed him to be there, because she did not know how much more loneliness she could take before she cracked.


	10. Sasha's Engagement

fThe air was getting warmer as April turned to May. Krista was walking down the path to the town to meet Sasha, admiring the rows of daffodils and the explosions of pink and green from the fully blossomed trees. It was a beautiful morning, with hardly a breeze in the air; the sun warmed her face as she walked, bouncing off of the green pendant of her mother’s bracelet. She wore the charm around her wrist at her father’s request; he had said it reminded him of her mother, and that made Krista smile. 

Her father had been trying incredibly hard over the past few days. He had managed to come down from his room for every meal, much to Krista’s delight. Briefly they had talked of when Bertholdt would come to dine; the letter had been sent and Bertholdt would be arriving with Reiner and Annie in a few days. It was not that her father seemed better, as such. It was more as if he was making a greater effort to make sure that she was not becoming like him.

That morning, Krista had received a letter from Sasha. Her tone was excitable and urgent. Krista could almost hear her jollity as she read.

Krista! She had written. You must meet me today in the town! I have the most wonderful news!

Krista was overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of company from her best friend. As she walked, she wondered what the news could be. She was happy that whatever it was was good, for she loved to see her best friend with a wide smile plastered onto her face. Previously, she had expected that her day would consist of some piano practise and perhaps a turn in the garden, but she was happy that her simple plans had been interrupted, for she had missed Sasha’s company very dearly. Something about her constant joking and merriment never ceased to make Krista feel warm, and she was eternally grateful that she had a friend like Sasha, for her days would be bleak without her.

As she crested the hill, the village came into view. It was a busy day; people lined the streets, bustling in and out of shops. Krista could see all manners of people; women, children, officers - it seemed as if every resident of the village had come out into the splendid weather of late spring.

“Krista!” Came a shout. Sasha was running towards her, expression ecstatic. When she reached Krista, Sasha pulled her into a tight embrace, giggling incessantly. 

“It is so good to see you!” Krista said to her, who had begun to laugh too. “But what is the nature of this abrupt meeting?”

Sasha said nothing, simply extended her left arm. There on her finger was a sparkling diamond ring. It gleamed in the sunlight, casting tiny spots of light onto Krista’s dress. Krista threw her hands over her mouth. 

“He proposed?” She exclaimed.

“Yes, just last night!” Sasha’s face was flushed and her brown hair was slowly coming undone from its plait as she jumped up and down.

“Sasha, that is wonderful news!” Krista was immensely happy. 

“And the wedding is in just one month!”

“One month? But that is so soon!” Krista was shocked. She knew her friend was prone to rushing into things, but even this came as a surprise; Krista supposed that Mr Springer was every bit as in love with her as she was with him. “Are you sure you are ready?”

Sasha took Krista’s hand. “Never have I been more sure of anything, Krista.” Her happiness seemed to radiate from her. “If I could spend my whole life as happy as I am right now, then I am sure my life would be nothing short of perfect.”

Krista looked into her eyes. “Then I expect an invite very soon.” She grinned and hugged her friend again. “Now, you must tell me all about it.”

“With pleasure! Well, he turned up so unexpectedly that I thought that something was very wrong; that he was leaving for London again sooner than expected. But no, he simply asked to walk with me, and he looked rather nervous, which I thought was odd, because he had always appeared so confident in front of me! Anyway, yes, the sun was just setting and we talked of its beauty for a little while, but then he suddenly stopped. I was so very confused, but I scarcely let myself hope that he might ask for my hand, so I kept my excitement at bay, but then! Then he got down upon one knee and pulled this ring from his back pocket,” - she admired the ring on her finger, smiling as she did - “and he proposed to me right there under the setting sun! Of course I said yes straight away, and he took my hand and kissed it before he placed the ring on my finger, and oh, Krista, everybody should feel this happy! It is like the light from the Sun shines inside of my heart!”

Krista laughed quietly. “Well, I wish you even greater happiness in your marriage. Now. Come into the village. I will buy you anything you desire.”

*****

The girls walked the town for several hours, laughing and buying various things. Sasha talked about her plans for the wedding over the lunch Krista had bought her, for food was what she desired for a gift. They had gotten a variety of cheeses and some bread, and were sat in a sunny field near the church. Sasha ate ravenously. Krista watched her, happy that her friend was happy. But then, something dawned upon her. 

“Sasha?” Krista asked quietly, mid way through one of Sasha’s sentences.

Sasha stopped talking about the food they would have at the wedding and looked up at her friend. “What is it, Krista?”

“Will you… be going back to London with him?”

Sasha cast her eyes to the grass, avoiding eye contact. “Yes,” she said, her voice soft and sad. 

“Straight after the wedding?”

“...Yes.” 

Krista felt a pang of pain shoot through her stomach. She was losing her only friend. Her mother, her father, her grandmother, Ymir, and now Sasha. How many more people would leave her all alone? Was there even anyone left? She struggled to smile, trying to seem as if she was alright, but it was incredibly difficult. She blinked, pushing back tears. How could she cope, now? She had just one month with her friend before she left for London. Then she would be even more alone. 

“That is alright,” she said quietly, struggling to keep her voice from wavering. 

“You could come and visit at any time,” Sasha said hopefully. 

“I would like that very much,” Krista replied. 

The rest of their conversation felt strange and forced, and Krista was so unhappy that she considered faking some variety of illness so that she could go and cry without having to feel even more guilty than she already did. She felt so selfish that she was upset at her friend’s engagement. How dare she? She should be happy for Sasha, not upset. 

After Sasha had finally finished eating, they decided that they would go and walk around the town for a little while before Sasha returned home. It was around three o’clock when they were approached by Jean Kirstein, who was brandishing a newspaper and shouting to anyone who would listen. 

“Mr Kirstein, whatever is the matter?” Sasha asked incredulously. 

“Miss Blouse, Miss Lenz,” Jean bowed. “There has been an arrest in the town over!”

“My, who was arrested? And what for?” Krista asked, grateful for any news which could distract her from her sadness.

“Two men have been accused of buggery! Sodomy!”

“And in Stohess!” Sasha cried. 

“Yes! A supreme defiance against our great Lord, do you not believe? Any man or woman who acts in such ways must be punished justly! May these two defilers be punished in the name of the law! The newspaper states that these men claimed to be in love with each other. Have you not heard a more ridiculous claim...”

Krista was silent, tuning out his words and letting her thoughts take over. Supreme defiance? For simply falling in love? Krista was not sure of exactly what they had done, but she could not understand the hatred coming from Jean’s voice and words. 

Sasha seemed entranced, but quickly began talking of her engagement. Krista was too deep in her mind to pay much attention to what the pair was saying. Was it so much of a crime to love someone of the same gender? 

She thought of Ymir; those feelings… so close to what Sasha had described. 

Would it be a crime to love Ymir in the same way that she was supposed to love Bertholdt? But no. That was impossible, ridiculous! It could never be. Krista laughed to herself at the prospect, trying to ignore the turbulent thrashing of her nerves at the thought of touching Ymir. 

“Miss Lenz, are you alright?” Jean asked; he looked concerned. 

Krista jumped. “Of course! I am fine!”

“I am glad to hear of that. Will you be at the service on Sunday?”

“Most certainly.”

“I look forward to it.” He bowed, then turned to Sasha. “Miss Blouse, if you would, please tell Mr Springer to make an appointment with me regarding your marriage at the church; arrangements, and such.”

“Mr Kirstein, I believe that I would be more suited to making the arrange-”

“Do not be ridiculous, Miss Blouse. Let the men take care of the important things.” 

Sasha looked defeated, but agreed. 

Not long after their conversation with Mr Kirstein, Sasha turned to Krista, an expression of revelation on her face. 

“I have just had the most wonderful idea, Krista!” She exclaimed. “You must be the one to design my dress! It would be perfect!”

“Are you sure that is the best idea, Sasha? I have never designed such a dress…”

“Nonsense, I know anything you designed would be impeccable! I shall send you my measurements tonight so that you may start as quickly as possible.”

“Very well,” Krista smiled. At least now she would have a point of focus, and the design sketches would be something to remember her friend by when she left for London. 

*****

That night, Krista sat, waiting for the letter to arrive from Krista. She thought of her conflict with Ymir, all those days before. In her loneliness, she had never actually stopped to consider the reasons why Ymir had been hiding in the cupboard. She had been so angry that her perception was almost rendered blind; Krista had never stopped to realise how strange it was that Ymir had just run away for no apparent reason. 

She thought back to the day. It had been when Bertholdt was coming over. Was it custom, wherever she had come from, to leave the room whenever someone of a higher class came in? No, that was ridiculous; she had been fine when her father entered, and she had never been dubious around Krista. Then what about Bertholdt was it? Why was she so desperate to not be seen by him? Had he done something to her? Krista doubted it; he was one of the kindest people she had ever met, and she doubted they had ever even met before. 

No matter how much she reviewed the situation, she could think of no reason why Ymir would be so desperate to get away from him, or why she was so angry when Krista has asked. Each time she replayed the scene in her mind she became more confused.

Marry him then. 

Was Ymir… jealous? It seemed impossible, but Krista remembered it in her tone; it was as clear as still water. But why? When Krista had tried to get closer to her, she ran away, and had not seen her since… so that could surely not be the case, could it?

“Damn! She is still making me question her! She told me that there was no reason, so why can I not just let it go?” Krista muttered angrily to herself, agitated that she had let the maid consume her thoughts once again. She was not even angry at her any more; all Krista wanted was answers. It had been so nice to talk to her as a friend, to find things out about her. Krista wanted more. She needed more. She almost felt as if she was going mad; the constant questions never seemed to relent. Every answer was met with two new questions; it was an endless cycle of confusion. 

She could not keep doing this. Krista went to her music room and did the only thing she knew - play music. The level of concentration that came with skilled playing was the sole thing that allowed her to be free from her thoughts. But within every rest, within the gap between each phrase, she found herself glancing over her shoulder, wanting and wishing that Ymir was listening at the door.


	11. Dissimulation

Over the following weeks, Krista became more and more reclusive than ever before; she spent all of her time in the drawing room, designing Sasha's wedding dress. It had proved to be a more difficult task than she had ever expected, though in Krista's eyes, this was a good thing, for it meant that she could keep her mind occupied and not have to think of Ymir.

Krista left twice weekly to go and visit her grandmother, and with each visit that passed, she had begun to feel worse and worse about herself. Her grandmother's condition was visibly deteriorating; each time Krista saw her, she looked more frail, more weak. And it seemed that her harsh words increased with the severity of her illness. Instead of normal conversation, Mrs Lenz demanded details on her relationship with Bertholdt. And though Krista and Bertholdt saw each other a handful of times, it never seemed to be good enough to meet her grandmother's standards.

"Krista!" She would snap as soon as Krista entered the room. "I demand news. Tell me of your developments with Mr Hoover."

And on nearly every occasion, Krista would reply timidly, shrinking visibly under her grandmother's glare. "I am sorry, grandmother." She would say. "But I have not seen or heard from him since I last visited you."

Mrs Lenz would reply with either a scornful torrent of abusive comments, or a fit of coughing. Usually, it was both. Krista would watch in silence, and Hanji would observe her from the doorway.

Hanji was fascinated by the two women. She said nothing to Krista of her conversation with the older woman; at first, she felt guilty about this, but as their interactions developed, her curiosity outweighed her morality. It seemed to her that each time Krista returned with no new developments, the grandmother would give up the facade that her illness was less severe, and appear as ill as she could to invoke fear into the daughter. She was completely controlling Krista without her even realising, and although she was in awe of the grandmother's manipulative intelligence, Hanji could not help but feel for the poor girl. Hanji had noticed that unless Krista was around, Mrs Lenz would try as hard as she could to appear as well as possible. The woman only exhibited the symptoms of her conditions when krista visited. As well as the aspect of manipulation, it seemed that Krista was being used by her grandmother for a rare opportunity to rest.

Every time Hanji saw Krista visit, she looked more tired; her bright blue eyes had lost their spark, and her appearance was dishevelled. She was beginning to look like her father. The only reason why her grandmother cared about this was that she believed that Bertholdt would be less interested in her if she was less beautiful. And Krista did not feel beautiful at all. She felt tired and harrowed, and she was trying incredibly hard to make Bertholdt make some kind of development. But whenever they met, he treated her more like a friend.

Krista did not want to push her advancements any further in fear of acting the way she had at the ball. It had only been just over a month since then, but it felt like years ago. Krista saw the way her grandmother was affected by her failures, which made her panic awfully. She was terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing to the extent where she was beginning to talk less to Bertholdt. Without her grandmother's guidance, she was becoming worse and worse at making conversation.

Even her music was not helping. She was becoming frustrated with her songs, as she was playing them over and over, trying to let herself be taken away to the place where nothing mattered. But the notes sounded wrong, they did not work. She was stuck inside her own mind.

When she could sleep, she was plagued with the same dream, over and over.

In the dream, Krista would be in the sitting room, surrounded by all the people she knew. Her grandmother, her father, Bertholdt, Reiner, Annie, Jean, Sasha and her fiance, Ymir… and her mother.

Her grandmother was always the first to leave.

"You are a disgrace to your family," she would say, disgust contorting her features, before walking briskly out of the open door.

Next was always Jean. He would walk out in silence, staring at her like she was absolutely worthless. Followed by him were Annie and Reiner. Annie would always mutter something under her breath, and then look at Bertholdt, but Krista could never hear what she said. After them, Bertholdt would follow, apologising, promising to make it up to her.

But he still left.

Connie would be tugging on Sasha's sleeve. "Come on, Sasha," he would say. "We have to leave, I do not even know her."

Sasha would look apologetically at her friend, before letting herself be dragged from the room. "I am sorry," she would whisper.

Left now would only be her parents, and Ymir. Ymir would never meet her eyes. Krista would try to beg her to stay, but the words would not come. She simply watched in silence as Ymir took the first step away from her.

"You will be left alone until you choose to walk with others."

And Krista would try to walk with her, but it was as if her feet were glued to the floor; she was helpless to do anything as Ymir followed the others, and Krista wailed into the deafening silence.

Her father would be sitting, his head in his hands. He never looked up to see Krista's mother. There was something strange about her. She shimmered, and Krista was never able to take her eyes off of her; she was so entrancing. Her mother was tall, and her blonde hair cascaded down her back in curls. Her blue eyes were piercing against her translucent skin.

"D-do not go," Krista said every time. It was all she could manage to say. "Please."

"Krista, my child," her mother would say. Her voice was soft and comforting. "I was never here to begin with."

And then she would leave too, just as her father looked up, and he would run, trying to follow her. And as the last person Krista had left went through the door, it slammed, leaving Krista trapped inside with only herself for company.

A quiet knock echoed through Krista's bedroom as she awoke. She did not want to open her eyes, but as the knocks persisted, she was forced to.

"Come in," she groaned.

The door opened to reveal the head cook. Krista rolled over, away from the door; she pulled her blankets over her head. Krista just wanted to sleep.

"Krista, dear, you need to get up. Do not forget that Mr Hoover and his friends are your guests today."

Krista let out another groan.

"Krista, you must."

"I know." She said reluctantly, getting out of bed.

Krista washed and dressed, dreading the moment her guests would arrive. She used to enjoy their company, just like she used to enjoy playing the piano, but now everything seemed bleak to her. She could only associate spending time with Bertholdt as trying to get him to propose to her, and that element was destroying a possible friendship. Her sadness and bitterness was distancing herself from him; she was sure of it.

Today, she decided, she would try. She hardly knew why; it seemed pointless, but in the hope of improving her grandmother's condition, she thought it could be worth at least one last try. She practised pulling a genuine smile in front of the mirror. She contorted her face until she had found the perfect arrangement of features for a warm grin. It satisfied her for the meantime. She glanced at the clock. Only an hour until they were due to arrive. And then, after that, Krista would be making another trip to see her grandmother. She felt her stomach drop simply by thinking of it; oh, she must gain some development today.

And still she had not seen Ymir; how Krista wished that she could. Krista spent the next hour lost in thought again, reliving every memory she had made with Ymir over and over.

When her guests arrived, Krista greeted them with the same smile she had practised, and hoped it could fool them. They sat in the sitting room; Annie wasted no time in delving into a book. She was not participating in the conversation, but surely was listening to it.

"Miss Lenz," Bertholdt said, smiling. "Tell me, has your grandmother made any recovery?"

"None as of yet," Krista said, "though I will be visiting her after we dine for lunch."

"I see," the man replied. "Well, let her know that she is in my prayers."

"That is very appreciated."

"How are arrangements for the ball coming along?" Reiner asked. "Will we know when we shall be receiving invitation?"

"Sometime within the next week, I should hope, sir." Krista bluffed. In all honesty, she had no idea; she would have to ask her grandmother. Reiner looked at Bertholdt pointedly; Bertholdt ignored him.

"And the date shall be June twelfth, if I am correct?"

"You are," Krista said politely, making sure to sit up a little straighter. Already, the strain of making conversation after being alone for so long was getting to her. She ignored her feelings of worry. How could she entice Bertholdt into inviting her out on their horses again? Krista tried to think of ways to bring it up in conversation, but was worried of coming across as presumptuous. Eventually, she settled with merely commenting on their trip.

"Yes, it was rather lovely, was it not?" Bertholdt replied. Annie shot him a glare that went unnoticed by Krista.

"Most certainly." Krista smiled.

"Perhaps we should go again!" Reiner exclaimed.

Krista went to agree, but Annie interrupted.

"Perhaps it is better if we do not," she glared at Reiner with icy eyes. "I have heard that the weather will be taking a turn for the worse."

"Oh, yes," Bertholdt said. "I have heard that too."

Krista tried to keep a happy expression. She could not understand why Annie was acting with such hostility towards her. What had she done? Krista did not know, but it was certainly beginning to chip away at her well-practised facade.

Their conversation passed with no further advancements from Krista; instead they talked of simple things. Excepting the underlying tension between Annie and Krista, there was not much of a strain as they talked. Soon Miss Peters called them in for lunch, and they sat around the table.

"The food here really is delicious," Bertholdt said.

"Thank you!" Krista replied. "I will make sure to pass on your comments to the maids."

Bertholdt smiled at her. Krista noticed the way his eyes lit up when he was happy; his smile was radiant. Annie, on the other hand, looked to be in a particularly bad mood. She barely said a word, and scowled through the entire first course. Today, she seemed to care even less of what Krista thought of her. Krista was glad that her grandmother was not there to see her in that mood. Annie's negative atmosphere was making Krista angrier and angrier; how was she supposed to talk to Bertholdt when all Annie did was glare and mutter things under her breath? It was infuriating, and Krista was finding it harder to remain polite. She could feel her anger bubbling just under the surface, as if she was about to explode.

"Just go!" Krista heard the head cook shout from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something toppling to the floor. Krista immediately got up from her chair.

"Excuse me," she said, concerned. "I must go to resolve this."

"Of course. We shall wait patiently for you to return." Reiner said.

Once she had exited the dining room, Krista ran to the kitchen. Standing there, holding the second course of food, was the head cook. She was shouting at someone, but Krista could not see them as the cook was in the way.

"Whatever is going on?" Krista asked incredulously.

"Krista, my girl! I hate to ask you to intervene in such trivial matters, but this maid is being ridiculous! She is simply refusing to do what I ask of her! We are short staffed, and Miss Peters is busy making the tea, but this girl simply refuses to serve the next course!" And she turned to reveal who she was shouting at.

It was Ymir. Krista should have known; who else could it have been?

Krista ignored her beating heart and walked over to the her. Ymir was so much taller, but Krista was angry, and she did not care.

"Why will you not take in the food?" She asked, not acknowledging the tremor in her voice.

"I cannot go in there, Miss Lenz." Ymir said, straight faced.

"Go in there."

"I will not."

"Why?" Krista exclaimed. "Is it pure stubbornness, or if there actually a reason?"

"Yes, I can affirm that there is."

"And would you tell me if I asked?"

"No, but you must believe me. I would at any other time. I promise to explain to you, Miss Lenz- Krista, but for now, I simply cannot!"

"Fine!" Krista shouted. "Give it to me, and I shall take it myself." She was tired of trying to understand; tired of trying to find an answer. She was just tired, and she had had enough of Ymir's mysteries. So what if she did not want to go in? Krista would not question her.

To Ymir's surprise, Krista took the plates and left, not looking back. Now she wanted nothing more than to apologise. Ymir had not realise how harrowed the girl had become. She felt guilty for leaving her alone, for walking away. She wanted to go back in time and stay with her - to dry her tears instead of leaving her to cry. Ymir had heard the whispers of the other maids, saying that Krista stayed in her room all the time, that they had heard her crying herself to sleep at night. She had to do something to make it up to her. Krista could not spend any more time alone, Ymir decided. She hated herself for becoming attached… but she had to.

For the rest of the meal, Krista was close to tears. Why did she have to see Ymir now? Her attempts to act with happiness and grace had failed. She had messed up again. How was it even possible? Damn Ymir. She wished her father was with them.

No members of the party mentioned the interruption; it was painfully silent around the table. Krista wanted them so badly to leave. She did not even try to initiate conversation; now that Krista had seen Ymir again for the first time in weeks, she was all the girl wanted to think about. Ymir, with her fiery eyes.

After dinner, Annie pardoned herself, saying that they must leave, and even though Bertholdt and Reiner looked as if they wanted to stay, Krista did not object; she only wanted them to leave, so that she could find Ymir and talk to her again. Krista was hardly even irritated at Ymir for ruining her facade.

"Miss Lenz?" Miss Peters entered the room after the guests had left. "Are you ready to leave? The carriage is waiting."

Dread filled Krista's stomach. She had promised her grandmother that she would do something… and she had not done a thing. Once again, she had let herself become distracted by Ymir, and now her grandmother's health would get worse.

So instead of going to find Ymir as she so dearly wanted to, Krista got into the carriage, and made her way to her grandmother's house, knowing that she would only return with only guilt, and an even heavier heart.


	12. Moonlight Sonata

Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains and woke Krista from her slumber the next morning. She got out of bed and walked over to the window. Opening the curtains, Krista admired the morning sky; not a single cloud broke the endless expanse of blue.

Krista sighed. Today held no exception; she felt just as terrible as she usually did. If not, she felt worse. The trip to her grandmother's had gone just as badly as she had feared it might. Once again, her grandmother's appearance had diminished: she looked even more tired and sick. Krista knew this even before her grandmother's demand for news. In addition to this, her father had not even made an appearance; he had been in his room for the past three days, and Krista had barely heard a word from him.

The woman had tried to shout at Krista, but had not been able to. In fact, she almost looked to tired to care. It was as if she was giving up on her. And that just made Krista feel even worse, as she knew her grandmother was not one to give up on anything.

Krista looked out at the rolling hills of the countryside and the garden of her estate. She stared at the winding paths and the stone statues, at the fountains and rows of bright coloured flowers, at the large ornate gate. Then, she turned, and studied the well-decorated room in which she slept. There was the soft bed on which she slept.

And it suddenly hit her; she needed none of this. She needed no ornate expenses to appreciate beauty; she needed no fountains, no decorations, no man-made paths. A soft bed had never protected her from the nightmares she faced every night when lying upon it. She did not know what this realisation meant for her. But Krista knew that she would rather be loved than wealthy. There was nothing she was more sure of. All she wanted was somebody to care about her. And she felt as if nobody did.

That was until she turned, and saw a stack of paper lying on her dressing table, tied with a red ribbon. She walked over to it, and upon inspection, she saw that it was sheet music, a completely new piece; Beethoven's piano concerto no. 14. She could not believe it. She had heard rumours of this piece, but never dreamed that she might be able to get it. Who had left it for her; was it her father? It would truly be expensive.

Krista dressed quickly and almost ran to his room.

"Father, is this gift from you?" Krista waved the sheet music in the air.

Her father lay in his bed, awake and reading a newspaper, but it looked as if he was not taking in any of the words. He turned to her. "No, my dear, it is not. Though I thought I heard the maids talking of it."

The maids? Why would they know? Unless… Krista hardly dared to let herself hope. Could it be? Could this be Ymir's way of reconciliation?

Krista made her way down to the kitchens next, trying to find someone who could tell her what was going on. But all the maids were talking of was that they had finally been paid.

"Has anybody seen Ymir?" Krista asked, but the head cook shook her head with a scowl at Ymir's name.

Krista's her fingers were itching to play. For the first time in weeks, she longed to feel the keys beneath her hands. But no. She had to find Ymir.

Where could she be? Krista had never been to the maid's quarters before. She would not know which door to knock on; it seemed strange to Krista to even go there. The main living room and kitchen were on the other end of the estate, and her bedroom was very far away, and on the top floor, too. She had never head reason to wander there, as she mainly stayed on the east side of the estate.

Despite her slight nerves, Krista walked to the western side of her estate. She exited through one of the rear doors and went down a path and a few steps, then into a smaller building. She walked through the entrance and reached a long corridor with many doors. She had no idea which belonged to Ymir. And she was suddenly very, very nervous; what if the music was not a gift from Ymir, and the girl was still angry at her?

Krista was about to turn back when she heard her.

"Krista?" Ymir said. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I-" Krista could suddenly not speak. She felt a hotness make its way up her cheeks. She simply held up the sheet music in embarrassment.

"Oh, that." Ymir said. "You found it, then?"

Krista could hardly believe it. She had suspected that it was from Ymir, but not really dared to believe… how had Ymir afforded it?

"You got this for me?" Krista asked incredulously.

"Well, yes. You do not already have it, do you?"

"No! I do not! But why the gift… I have not done anything to warrant such a thing!"

"It is my way of an apology. I… am not good at admitting I am wrong. But I must go, I am needed in the kitchens this morning…"

"Please, stay." Krista said. Ymir had reconciled; there was nothing she could be happier about.

Ymir smiled at her; Krista's stomach turned. "Very well!"

"I see you did not require much persuasion," Krista laughed.

"Not after my telling off from that awful head cook!" Ymir exclaimed, leading Krista into her bedroom.

"She really is a lovely woman, once you get to know her better." Krista tried to appear calm, but the prospect of seeing Ymir's room was half-exciting, half-terrifying. It was such an intimate thing to do! Yet Ymir seemed to hardly notice at all as she opened the door.

It was smaller than Krista's bedroom. A lone painting hung from the wall that depicted the setting sun. The bed was hastily made, and the drawers were still slightly open. But what Krista noticed more were the books; they dominated every surface, piling on top of each other, leaning in great towers on the bedside table and stacked underneath the bed too.

"My apologies for the mess, but I wanted to talk to you where we could not be overheard."

"What? Whatever do you mean?"

"I have not been fair to you, Krista." Ymir sat down on the bed and invited Krista to sit next to her. "I wanted to answer a few of your questions."

Krista sat down tentatively.

"I am sure you wondering how I managed to afford that piece," Ymir said. "The reason I chose to come and work for your father was because he was offering an unusually high rate of pay for his servants; until I met him I did not realise that that was due to his good nature." She paused and looked down. "I had been saving every penny of my wages until I bought the piece for you. It was always my favourite piece, and I wanted to hear it one last time, before I…"

"Ymir! No, you must let me repay you!"

"No, you will not. Do not believe this was a selfless act, it was for myself, too; I am simply trying to delay my departure. You see, Krista, I am trying to save my money so I can afford passage to America."

"W-what?" Krista stuttered. "You are… leaving?"

"When I can afford to." Krista could hardly believe it; the news came as a punch to the stomach. "Though that probably will not be for several months."

"But why?"

"I cannot stay in this country; it has been too cruel to me. I want to start a new life, away from the burden of my family-" She stopped talking abruptly.

"But what will you do there? How will you live? Is there a place you can stay?"

Ymir looked at Krista, completely dumbfounded. "Krista… why are you worrying about me? You are going to be left alone again."

"What is my loneliness compared to the image of you without a place to live?"

"Why are you so kind?" Ymir asked, and then, without thinking, reached over and pulled Krista into a tight embrace.

Krista gasped; she had never expected such an obvious display of affection. Her head lay upon Krista's chest, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. The rhythm of Ymir's heartbeat echoed in her ears. Slowly, Krista reached out and put her arms around Ymir, trying to remain calm, but her face was flushing red and her hands were shaky.

"I should not have walked away from you, Krista. But I was becoming too attached to you, and I was going to have to leave, so I thought that if I kept my distance, you would not be upset when I was gone, and neither would I. But when I saw you yesterday… I knew I had to see you again, even if it would break you when I left."

"I understand," Krista said softly. She sat up, ending the embrace. "Tell me, though. Why did you choose America?"

"The stories I have heard, of liberty and freedom… it is a chance I could not give up."

"I suppose not. Ymir?"

"Yes?"

"I will miss you."

Ymir looked down. "As will I, Krista."

"I think that I shall play this piece for my grandmother," Krista said. "For she has not heard me play in many months."

"Why?"

"There has always been an excuse; a headache, an appointment. I used to believe it was because my playing was not good enough, but if I can play this piece to perfection, then maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Maybe she will forgive me."

"Why do you think that?"

"I do not know, it is merely a suspicion that has bloomed into hope. I just believe that she does care about me. She has to. It is for my own good that I marry Mr Hoover, even if it is not what I want, and she is only doing what she thinks is best."

"But she cares not how much pain that would cause you. She is just as selfish as I."

"Even still. I know that she might not recover from this illness. I am sick of the way everyone treads on tiptoes around me; I am not foolish. I know that she may not have long. And if I can help her with my music, or even just let her know who I am, then…"

Ymir placed her hand on Krista's shoulder. "If that is what you wish, then do it."

Krista smiled up at her. "Then would you like to come and listen to me practise?"

"I would like nothing more."

* * *

 

"My, this piece is so difficult!" Krista exclaimed. She was sat on her piano stool, Ymir next to her.

"It sounds perfect to me." Ymir had loved the sound of the piano since she was little, but had never acquired the patience to learn to play. She watched Krista in awe; the way her fingers glided over the keys so effortlessly seemed impossible to Ymir. But Ymir was stuck even more by admiration when she watched Krista's expressions. When Krista played the piano, it was as if she became a different person. Gone was her tired expression, her dark circles; they were cast away by the shining of her blue eyes. She sat up straight, and played with a fervour, as if consuming every note. It took Ymir's breath away. She had never seen someone so beautiful.

Oh, and the sound; it was unlike anything she had ever heard. It filled the room, enhanced her senses, brought her to life. Ymir wanted to dance, to move, to take Krista in her arms and never let her go. She watched in a trance, unaware that the music had stopped.

"Ymir?" Krista asked.

"My apologies." Ymir said quickly, sitting up a little straighter. "What is it?"

"Do you think I am playing the third movement fast enough?"

Ymir really had no idea what she was talking about, but agreed nonetheless; to her, Krista could play nothing wrong, unless she was playing without passion. And she was certainly playing with passion now. The way her hair, loose and untied, followed the movements of the music as Krista swayed with unwavering avidity; how she forgot to breathe when playing a hard passage, and the smile that broke out when she got it right. Not even Ymir's angered, righteous words of freedom came close to this kind of passion; the music seemed to come straight from her soul. If Krista's grandmother could not find room in her heart to show mercy to Krista after this, then Ymir did not know what she would do.

Krista was so happy to have Ymir by her side again. The girl's presence gave her so much hope; when playing, Ymir was all she thought of. She transcribed her thoughts to music. The fast, exciting parts were the way her heart beat furiously when Ymir was near. That ride on horseback, the way her pulse had doubled when they rode in the rain. It gave each note twice the meaning it would have had before. And the slower, sad phrases; they were the confusion, the crying. They were played with the knowledge that Ymir was going to leave.

Krista wondered if her grandmother was going to be able to feel the emotion in her playing when she performed for her. Would she be able to see that marriage was not what Krista wanted, and if she did, would she be able to tell? Krista did not know. She could only have hope, and the thoughts of Ymir inside her mind.


	13. Ruins

For the next three days, Krista divided her time between practising her new piece and finishing the design for Sasha's dress. Sasha's wedding was in just two weeks, for Sasha insisted they be married in the country before she travelled with Connie to London, where he lived. Krista was immensely happy with her design, as was Sasha; after her approval, it was set to be made. Krista was happy that she could give her friend one last gift before she left for London.

Ymir seemed to always be with her, and her constant company lightened Krista's mood more and more each day. She was becoming more confident with the piece, too, and was learning new things about herself as a musician. Krista was sure that her music would reach her grandmother, that it would convey the feelings that she could not put into words. And Ymir was helping her; every moment that Krista spent with the maid was making her more sure of her convictions.

Krista was due to meet her grandmother the next day. She was very nervous, but sure the piece would go well. Krista sat at the table with her father, who was making a rare appearance for breakfast.

"Father, will you be coming to see grandmother tomorrow?" She asked. "I have a new piece I wish to play for her."

"Well, Krista, you see, I…" Her father replied, staring at the table.

"It is alright," Krista said quietly. What else should she have expected? Krista tried to ignore the sadness that was beginning to bubble from her chest, but it was hard. She tried to think of Ymir to make herself feel better. Suddenly, however, the concept of going to play for her grandmother seemed like an immense task if she were not to have Ymir by her side. But no. This was something she had to do.

Krista spent the day practising. When she could, Ymir would come in, and they would talk for ten minutes or so before Ymir had to return to her duties as a maid. Krista loved those handfuls of quick conversation. They would laugh about the gossiping maids and their silly stories, and Ymir would tell her things she had heard about America. Occasionally, Ymir would bring her tea or a pastry she had gotten from the kitchens. They would share it, Ymir next to her on the piano stool, their waists touching ever so slightly.

That evening, when Ymir was relieved from work, she came upstairs to see Krista before going to bed. Krista was already in her nightress. As Ymir opened the door, she saw Krista working at her dresser. Ymir laughed quietly under her breath at the way Krista furiously wrote with her back slightly hunched over.

"What are you writing?" Asked Ymir, walking over to Krista.

Krista smiled when she saw Ymir. "Oh, nothing important," she said. Simply a letter to Sasha."

"About the wedding?"

"Yes; she sent the invitations, but I had to deny two of them; my grandmother will be too sick to attend and my father says he does not wish to go."

Ymir saw the disappointment in Krista's eyes as she said this. It made her angry to know that the girl would be attending the wedding alone. Despite Ymir's hatred of weddings, she wished she could go just so that Krista would not be alone. Or perhaps, she realised, it was simply because she wanted to be with Krista.

"But I am sure you will have a good time nonetheless, will you not?" Ymir said.

"I know it will be just splendid," Krista said, "but I just wish that I could spend more time with my father."

Ymir could not understand why Krista felt so much compassion towards people. She thought of her own father, and felt nothing but hatred. Then again, Ymir could see that Krista's father was a good man. He had employed her, had he not?

She thought back to that night. She had been staying in a room she had rented; this was her last night there. She was down to the last of her money and was worrying about Surtur, who on that evening in late February was outside in the makeshift stables, facing the piercing wind. Then there was a knock at the door, and she was given a letter. It was from Henry Lenz, and he had chosen to employ her. Ymir could not believe her luck.

"Krista." Ymir placed her hand on the blonde girl's shoulder. "You must stop worrying for him. And for your grandmother. I know that it makes him happy to see you happy, too."

Krista looked up at her. "I know," she sighed. "I just do not want to feel this lonely any longer."

Ymir wished that she could say that she did not have to, but she knew it was a lie. Soon, she would leave for America, her grandmother would die, and Sasha would be in London. Maybe she should ask Krista to go with her; no, she would surely refuse.

Krista folded her letter and placed it on the dresser. She yawned. "I am rather tired."

"I am not surprised; you spent the whole day practising!"

Krista suddenly looked worried. "Do you think it will go well?" She asked.

"Krista, I know it will. Your playing is wonderful."

Krista smiled at Ymir; it made hey eyes light up. "I think I am going to go to bed now."

"Sleep well, Krista. I will make sure to send you my wishes in the morning."

"Goodnight, Ymir."

"Goodnight."

*****

Krista's eyes studied the sheet music she was clutching as she rode in the carriage to her grandmother's house late that afternoon. She did not know how her grandmother would react; Krista was just glad there was a piano in the woman's room.

Hanji greeted her at the door. Gone was the doctor's usual smile; Hanji looked grimly at Krista and invited her in.

"Is something wrong, doctor?" Krista asked nervously.

"My dear, I think it is best that you go and see her." Hanji turned to look at Levi, who was waiting down the long hallway.

Krista walked quickly up to her grandmother's room. There was no response when she knocked, so Krista pushed the door open a tiny crack of the way. The room was lit well, but Mrs Lenz lay fast asleep on the bed. Krista walked in and set her music down on the piano in the corner of the room. She walked to her grandmother.

Mrs Lenz lay under the sheets, unconscious, but breathing with quick and shallow breaths. Tears formed quickly in Krista's eyes; she knew that her underperformance would lead to this.

Hanji watched from the doorway. Could the doctor tell her? Could Krista know the truth - that this was always going to happen, that the grandmother never stood a chance?

Krista began to cry. "It's my fault, it's my fault," she whispered to herself, the tears falling onto her cheeks. She knew that Ymir would think she was ridiculous for crying, but she hardly cared; how could she not cry after causing a person such harm?

"She has not woken since yesterday, and she has not been responding well at attempts to rouse her," Hanji said.

"Grandmother?" Krista placed her hand on Mrs Lenz's forehead; it was burning hot. The woman did not respond to Krista's touch. Krista was nervous and unsure, but she knew there was only one thing she could do. Play.

She set up her sheet music and opened the piano. With a cloth she brushed off the dust from the keys. Krista pulled out the stool from under the piano and sat down upon it.

She inhaled slowly and deeply, trying calm her nerves. Then she rested her hands on the keys, closed her eyes, and began to play.

The notes began to reverberate around the spacious room. Soft but meaningful, they filled the air. Krista had not even had the piece for a week but she felt as if she knew it well - those slow, somber notes that seemed to flow as if she was singing them. Ymir had given her this piece in an act of selfish charity; a gesture of kindness that gave her gratification. And Krista would use it in her own way.

Krista no longer had to try to make the notes come, as they were almost playing themselves; Krista's mind was preoccupied. She was directing her thoughts to her grandmother, willing her to wake up and speak to her. But she did not dare turn around to look. Her hands were moving fast across the keys, but remained perfectly in time. Each phrase that passed turned like a sigh of relief as Krista played it perfectly. She did not think she had ever played with this much passion in her life; she swayed with the music, leaning forward to entice the melody, falling back to let it breathe. Krista's playing was flawless; she could hardly believe it.

Hanji was silent in the doorway, absolutely awestruck, for despite having heard the girl's reputation, she did not think it was possible to play such a sweet melody with such ferocious passion and make it sound beautiful. How could it be? Hanji was enchanted. She had been watching Krista for weeks now, and she had only seen her looking worried, scared, and empty. But suddenly she was radiating supreme happiness, relief, excitement… the list went on. What had made Krista this way? Was it a person? Or what music what she used to escape?

Krista's thoughts had directed themselves to Ymir, and she was making a decision in her mind. She was going to make the most of her time with Ymir, and not get upset. The past three days they had spent laughing and talking together had been wonderful for Krista, and she wanted to spend every second with Ymir that she could until she left. This song was for her.

As the final and most difficult movement began, Krista let the last of her feelings pour into the notes. This was it, this was her chance. She had to reach her grandmother now, or she would never have the chance to say what she wanted to. She slammed down her hands to play the final fortissimo chord, gasping as she realised that she has finished. The noise echoed around the room, and when it had finally dissipated, there was a moment of silence before a faint whisper.

"Krista…" It was her grandmother. Hanji rushed over to ask questions but the frail woman cast the doctor aside with a glare. Hanji retreated outside and Krista walked over to her grandmother. She could not believe her rushed plan had worked. That her music was able to reach down to the depths of her grandmother's sickness and pull the feeble woman from its grip astounded her.

"Grandmother! You have woken! Tell me, how do you feel?"

"Krista. Let me tell you why I never wanted to listen to you play."

Krista was shocked; this was not the reaction she had expected. But nonetheless she sat on the edge of her grandmother's bed and listened.

"When I was around your age," Elizabeth Lenz began, "I was not in the position you are now. I was not bestowed with wealth as you are. I lived in very much a middle class home, and with no brothers and two older sisters already married. Can you imagine the strain I was putting upon my parents? It must have been terrible. But did I, as a sixteen year old girl filled with the naivety of youth, care? Most certainly I did not.

"I was a terrible child; do you know why? It was because I had a dream, and my dream was to play the piano."

Krista looked at her incredulously. Her grandmother? Play the piano? She could hardly believe it was true.

"Yes, I can understand that that might be shocking news. But to continue: I refused to marry. I was a girl with far too much self confidence; I thought I could make money, compose, be successful. No. Krista, my dear, a woman can not be successful in this world. One can be rich, or own as many possessions as she may please, but it is hard enough to find happiness while rich, let alone while poor.

"But yes. I wanted to travel. I wanted to find love at my own pace. I thought I was so enlightened, while really I was ignorant as you are. I did not want to marry and I did not want to settle. But look where I ended up five years later - I was married, and I was settled, and that was that. No, I did not love your grandfather, but I was safe and I was not burdening my parents. I gave up the piano, and I gave up my dreams.

"And what are you doing now, by refusing to do as I ask? You are burdening me. Look!" She lifted a frail, thin arm from under the sheets. "This is what you have done. The Lord knows I would have recovered by now if it were not for you. Need I go on? Your father, that pathetic man. Driven to a melancholy depression, by you, nonetheless, and do you know why? Because he refuses to remarry after your mother died as she gave birth to you. He wishes not to marry again so as to protect your mother's image in your eyes; it disgusts me. If you would just leave, then he could most likely live more happily, but no, you naive girl, you think that music can solve your problems."

Krista felt as if she had been slapped in the face. She wanted to cry, to beg her grandmother to stop, but she was frozen where she sat. And still her grandmother continued.

"If you do not marry, and I know you do not wish to, then your estate will be taken from you when your father passes; how will you manage it alone? You will be forced into a life of misery, just like the ones you create for others around you, and I wish you good luck finding your happiness through music there. For there shall be none."

Hanji watched, mouth agape, from the doorway. What was causing this woman to act with such hatred? Hanji sensed bitterness. Had Krista only served to bring up the grandmother's repressed memories of regret? But even if that were true, why had Mrs Lenz failed to see that Krista's music had been the thing to save her?

Hanji knew that she had to take Krista home; one, so she could attend to the woman, and two, so she could the poor girl away. Hanji had had no idea that the old woman could be so cruel, or that it was even possible to.

"Krista, I must treat your grandmother now. Is there a carriage waiting for you?"

"Yes," the emptiness in Krista's words sent a pang through Hanji's heart.

Hanji and Levi led Krista to the carriage waiting and watched as it took her away. Then they went back up to the grandmother's room quickly, to tend to the grandmother and ask her questions.

"I know that it is not my place, Mrs Lenz, but do you not think your words were a little harsh?" Hanji asked.

"I will treat my granddaughter how I please." Mrs Lenz replied, though her voice was faint and weak.

"Can you not see what you are doing to her?"

"I am trying to help her, why is it impossible for you to see that?"

"You are not helping her; you are destroying her. How is her father's depression her fault in any way?"

"You simply do not understand."

"I suppose I do not." Hanji said, and with that, silence fell upon the estate of Elizabeth Lenz.

Krista's face was buried into her sheets; she screamed and cried. Why did her grandmother hate her so much? She asked herself the question over and over, though she knew the answer. It was because of what she had done to her grandmother and to her father. And she hated herself more than ever. She cried and cried, wishing there was someone who could make everything stop. Now, she was glad that Ymir was going to be leaving, for then she could go before Krista ruined her happiness too. Or perhaps she already had; Krista did not know.

All she did know was that she hated herself.

Then, there was a knock on the door; Krista let out a sob in response. Ymir ran through the door and into the dark room.

"Krista? Krista!" Ymir said desperately, her voice catching. "What has happened? Why are you crying?"

Krista did not respond. Ymir got a little closer to her; her heart was pounding in her chest. Seeing Krista cry invoked a physical reaction from Ymir, and it made her want to punch the walls. She was so angry.

"Ymir…" Krista said. "It was awful… she said… she said,"

"What? What did she say?"

"Ymir. Come closer to me,"

Ymir tried to conceal her flustered feelings and got onto the bed beside her. She slowly ran her fingers through the blonde girl's hair and tried to stop them from shaking.

"Have I ruined your life, Ymir?" Krista asked her, her voice soft and quiet in the darkness.

Ymir turned her head to look at Krista. "What? Why would you ask such a thing?"

"My grandmother said… that I ruin everybody's lives." Krista cried. "Please, tell me."

"Krista… forgive me, for I am finding it difficult to contain my feelings. But you have made me the happiest I have ever been, and no words could express my thanks with enough sincerity." Ymir said.

Krista did not say a word, she simply lay next to Ymir in the darkness and thought about the horrible things her grandmother had said. She cried into the maid's shoulder, and wondered if she would ever feel happy again. But it seemed that whenever she achieved something close to happiness, it was always torn from her grasp by the words of her grandmother.


	14. The Wedding

I am so so sorry for the wait everyone! I had some personal issues and things so I couldn't really write - but I'm back on it now! Also, it's been two months since I started writing this now! I never expected to get the lovely reviews that I did so thank you so so much to everyone who has left one :) I appreciate it!

*****

To Miss Krista Lenz,

I write to you to express my wish that you may allow me to accompany you to the wedding of Miss Sasha Blouse to Mr Connie Springer this Friday. If it is your wish, as it is mine, please write back as quickly as possible. I hope that you are well, and I look forward to seeing you.

Eagerly awaiting your response, Bertholdt Hoover.

Krista read the letter over and over. It was the night before the wedding and she was sat at her dresser, holding the letter in her hands. Krista had already sent her reply of affirmation, but she was not quite sure how she felt about it. Not that there was anything that could be done about it now. She was to meet Bertholdt at the wedding; they would sit together.

It was beginning to get dark and Krista knew she had to get some rest. The wedding took place early in the morning; she did not want to be tired throughout the ceremony. Krista sighed and folded up the letter. For the last week she had not seen her grandmother, nor received a letter from her. Though she felt a constant worry in her chest, she was trying to ignore the grandmother's comments at Ymir's advice.

Ymir had been furious the morning after Krista returned. The maid had wanted Krista to tell her father what her grandmother had said. Krista was reluctant; the last time she had told her father that her grandmother had upset her, he was upset and angry, and Krista hated seeing him that way. All Krista asked for was Ymir to comfort her when she needed it, so that she would not have to face the burden of her thoughts alone. Ymir assured her again and again that she was none of the things her grandmother had told her, and that she was a horrible, lying old woman, but Krista could not bring herself to believe that a member of her family would be so cruel without reason.

When she got underneath the sheets that night, Krista fell asleep slowly, as she did most nights. She thought of the wedding, and was glad that she got to be a part of it. But the thoughts of marriage slowly directed her towards Bertholdt, and then, of course, to Ymir.

*****

The sun shone brightly from the uninterrupted blue of the early morning sky. There was no trace of a breeze, nor any other disturber of the tranquility that morning. The only noise came from the casual conversations outside of the chapel.

Jean was stood with his father proudly, dressed in his best clothes. On the sidelines stood Annie and Reiner. Annie was flawless; dressed in extravagant clothes, with her hair perfectly pulled back into a hairstyle only she could wear with style, she resembled a princess. Reiner stood next to her, watching the people as they talked. Annie's expression was of boredom, while Reiner smirked at Krista and Bertholdt as they made conversation.

"She does not like him, you know." Annie said to him, her voice tainted with bitterness.

"Why do you say that? They look very well together. And she is beautiful, is she not?" Reiner said as he watched Krista laughing at something Bertholdt had said.

"There is no doubt of her beauty." Annie said, looking at Krista. Undoubtedly the pale blue dress she wore had been designed by herself; it fit her perfectly. Two golden curls framed her face and her cheeks were pink with the slight cold of the morning air. "I simply doubt her intentions."

"You believe them malicious? They seem to fit together perfectly," Reiner looked at Annie quizzically. "They are both so sweet and kind."

"She is sweet, no question. But there is something so lacklustre behind her eyes. They do not match her smile."

She was right, Reiner noticed; Krista's blue eyes did not shine with her smile.

"But why should that mean she does not have feelings for him?"

"She may, it just does not seem so to me," Annie said. "He would be unhappy with her."

"Annie, my cousin. You know of his feelings for her; I doubt they will change."

"He is blinded by her looks, her sweet exterior! She would surely become bitter in an unhappy marriage, and where would that leave Bertholdt? He would be miserable!"

"Annie. You are becoming bitter. Just talk to him," Reiner said. "Tell him how you feel about Miss Lenz, if your opinions are that strong."

"He would not listen."

"How would you know?"

"Look at him."

Bertholdt was hanging onto Krista's every word, captivated. "He is too far in love with her. No doubt the reason she does this is because of her wretched grandmother…"

"Your hatred for that woman amuses me, Annie."

Annie smirked at him. "Well, she is foul."

"I will not disagree." He smiled at her.

Annie's expression turned back to its usual blankness as she began to formulate a plan in her mind.

The guests began to file into the church. Inside, it was decorated beautifully; white flowers accented the aisle and the light shining through the large windows cast a beautiful glow over the church interior.

Krista was trying her best to appear natural and happy, but there was a pulsing ball of anxiety in her chest; as she sat down next to Bertholdt, all she could think of was that there was something incredibly wrong, despite nothing being out of place. She wished the feeling would leave her, but Krista had to compromise with simply trying to ignore it. She clasped her shaking hands in her lap and breathed deeply to try and control her nerves.

On Krista's other side sat Annie, who kept shooting subtle glances at her. After a few minutes, Connie Springer made his way to the altar, looking nervous but excited. Krista had met him a few times in the preparations for the wedding, and she liked him; Connie was good humoured and seemed to admire Sasha greatly, despite lacking in intelligence.

A hushed silence descended; Sasha was about to make her entrance. Music began to play and the entire congregation craned their necks to look at the bride. A collective gasp ensued; nobody had expected what they saw when Sasha walked through the archway, escorted by her father. She was tall and beautiful, her hair was perfect; there seemed to be no imperfection marking her glowing skin and her dress was flawless. Krista had gone through the expense of a white dress, and it seemed to have worked out perfectly. This was her masterpiece - Krista had never designed something so beautiful, and she doubt that she would again. She smiled secretly at the shock of the guests that a girl of Sasha's status would have such a dress, almost to spite them. Sasha smiled broadly at Krista as she passed her pew. Seeing her best friend lessened her nerves slightly.

Connie's expression was of unadulterated love as Sasha reached the altar. It truly was perfect. Krista watched them as Jean's father began the service. She looked at Bertholdt, who was sat next to her, and imagined standing at that altar next to him. It scared her, but she was used to it; she knew that marriage was not what she wanted, but were her wishes worth sacrificing for the health of her grandmother? She did not know.

Jean's father began to talk. Krista's mind swam in and out of focus; she could barely pay attention. She tried to focus on Sasha's smile but she simply could not; the pulsing pain of her quickened heartbeat was too much.

Around halfway through the ceremony, a sharp whisper freed Krista from her daze.

"Miss Lenz," it was Annie. "The three of us should like to meet with your grandmother."

Krista looked over, startled. "Whyever so?"

"To make preparations for the ball. As it is to celebrate the officers, we should like to help organise it."

"Well, Miss Leonhart, you see-"

"Should we say in two days time?"

Krista could not object to her; she lacked the energy to. Instead, she sat back in the pew and watched the ceremony with a glassy expression and foggy mind. Bertholdt glanced at her a few times, but his focus seemed to be on Annie rather than Krista.

It passed quickly; the guests clapped respectfully when Sasha and Connie exchanged their first kiss as a married couple. Sasha walked back down the aisle in Connie's arm, and the guests followed after them.

In the morning sun waited a half a dozen horse-drawn carriages, ready to take the congregation to Sasha's house for the reception breakfast. Sasha and Connie got into a carriage of their own, while Krista rode with Jean and his father, Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt.

"Mr Kirstein, my congratulations on a beautiful ceremony." Bertholdt said to Jean's father with sincerity.

"Why, thank you! My Jean here would love to hold a wedding. Tell me, Mr Hoover; do you plan on marrying soon?"

Bertholdt laughed nervously. Krista watched him intensely, waiting to hear his response. Annie turned her head out of the window, looking uninterested in the conversation. Bertholdt glanced at her before looking back to Mr Kirstein.

"Sometime in the future, I would very much hope to."

Krista looked down. She did not know what she should have expected, but desired more an answer she could deduce something from than what she received.

"Of course, it is a prospect you have not yet fully considered, is it not, Bertholdt?" Annie suddenly joined the conversation. She looked at Bertholdt with narrowed eyes.

"Well, I-" Bertholdt looked nervously at Reiner. "I should like to think that marriage is not many years away, for I do wish to return home soon."

"Yes; I believe that you are leaving when the officers do, in just a few weeks time?" Jean said.

"That is correct. Miss Leonhart and I will be returning to the north together." There was a hint of anxiety in his tone, and his hands were twisting nervously in his lap.

"Ah, it is a shame." Said Jean's father. "It really has been a pleasure to accommodate you in our church. And of course, you shall be remaining in contact with our dear Miss Lenz here?"

"Most certainly!" Bertholdt said, now looking visibly uncomfortable. Annie simply looked passively outside. Krista smiled at him, though her chest felt tighter than ever and her hands were shaky again. She remained quiet.

"And we shall most definitely, once I and the other officers return! Though we shall be away for several years when we leave next."

"It is a shame," said Jean, "that you must be away for so long; though your diligence in serving our King is admirable."

"Thank you, that is kind of you to say." Reiner smiled at Jean.

"And what of you, Mr Braun?" Jean's father asked. "Do you plan to marry?"

"Not as of yet." Reiner replied. "I plan to start my search on my next return to this glorious country. But I am wary, for I worry that the most beautiful girls will already married by that time." He looked at Krista and grinned.

Krista was taken aback by this nature of his. Yes, he had called her beautiful; but Krista was more startled by his presumption of her marriage than anything else. She looked down at her lap, trying to work out what he meant, and, in doing so, missed the glare that Bertholdt shot at his blond-haired companion before looking at her again.

The carriages reached Sasha's house quickly and the guests made their way inside for their reception breakfast. It was a jovial scene, with laughter and happy conversation filling the air. Krista was seated with Sasha, Connie, Jean and his father, and Sasha's parents, for which she was glad. Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt were on another table with Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, who were deep in conversation; the trio looked rather uncomfortable sat with such close strangers.

The conversation on Krista's table was focused around the new couple, and she contented herself with listening and occasionally moving the food around on her plate. Sasha's parents complimented Krista on the design of the dress, and Krista accepted humbly; once the rest of the guests found out that it was of her design, Krista was overwhelmed by their approval, leaving her in a flustered state. Even Annie seemed to be impressed.

Krista simply wanted to talk with Sasha once more before she left for London, but with the overwhelming noise and presence of the other guests, Krista did not know if she would get the chance. Her glances in Sasha's direction went unnoticed; Sasha was too busy socialising with everyone else, which, Krista thought, was reasonable. Though Krista did have her first informal conversation with Connie - she found that she liked him very much, despite what he lacked in intelligence. He was very kind, and Krista knew that Sasha would be happy with him.

Krista looked around at the congregation of happy, smiling faces and wondered if there was something wrong with her. But she did not have time enough to think before she was led outside with everyone else to say their final goodbyes to Sasha and Connie.

It was almost midday and the sun was blazing in the sky. Krista was fighting back tears as she watched people congratulate Sasha and give their farewells; it had finally completely dawned on her that her best friend was leaving. She was stood next to her carriage with Connie, beaming. Krista approached her, to say her farewell, but when Sasha saw her she pulled Krista into a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Krista. I could never have asked for a better friend than you."

When Sasha released her, Krista's face was wet with tears. "I am going to miss you so dearly."

Sasha smiled and took Krista's hand. "I will write to you whenever I can, Krista. And you must come and visit us, too."

"I would very much like that," Krista said tearfully.

"As would I." Sasha grinned.

And then, to the cheering applause of her guests, Sasha got into the carriage with Connie, and they drove away. Krista watched until the carriage was out of distance, and tried to smile as tears rolled down her cheeks.


	15. Annie's Investigation

Hanji was lying in one of the guest rooms of Mrs Lenz’s house, writing in her notebook. Her eyes were heavy; she was exhausted. After a long day of tending to Mrs Lenz’s whims and desires, she only wanted to sleep, but she had far too many things to do for that. Levi lay on the bed next to her, finally satisfied with the cleanliness of the room. Hanji sighed, and her assistant draped an arm around her, which made her smile. 

She was tired of the futility of her efforts to help Mrs Lenz; despite knowing there was nothing to be done, she desperately wanted to help - for the sake of the girl rather than her grandmother. She worried for Krista, especially as she had not been to visit since Mrs Lenz’s harsh treatment of her. 

Hanji knew that the old woman had gone too far, but she did not have the first clue where she could begin to help. She sighed again when she looked at the pile of unopened letters on the bedside table. Picking them up, she began to rifle through them, looking at the senders’ names, until she saw one sent from Krista.

Dear Mr Zoe, 

Would it be possible for Miss Annie Leonhart, Mr Reiner Braun, Mr Bertholdt Hoover and I to visit my grandmother in two days time? We should like to make preparations for a ball, and my friends believe that the input of my grandmother is vital.

Krista Lenz.

Hanji hastily wrote a reply of affirmation, which she would send in the morning. She could hardly believe that Krista would be returning after the malicious verbal slaughtering she had experienced; no doubt, somebody had pressured her it.

“What is it, Hanji? Are you worrying about that bratty blonde girl again?”

“She is far from bratty, Levi. Do you think I should tell her what her grandmother is doing?”

“I would not try to interfere. It is not your business.”

Hanji was dubious. “But do you not think that what that old woman said was unfair?”

“Why must you always involve yourself in such affairs, Hanji?”

Hanji looked away him and said nothing. She folded the letter, placed it in an envelope, and set it down on the bedside table. Finally, she turned back to Levi. He could see the lines of worry on her face.

“I do not know, Levi. But I honestly wish there was something I could do.”

*****

Krista watched the morning pass from her bedroom window as she waited for Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt to arrive. She was dreading the visit to her grandmother’s home, and wondered if there were some way she could excuse herself from the meeting; but no, she had to go, or her grandmother would think even worse of her, if that were possible. 

The churning ball of dread that had been residing in the pit of her stomach intensified when she saw them arrive. She walked down to the front door to greet them, fixing a smile onto her face. 

“Would you like to come inside?” Krista offered. “We could sit and have tea before departing, if you would wish.”

Bertholdt went to answer, but Annie quickly responded. “I think it would be better if we travelled straight to your grandmother’s house. There are many things I wish to talk to her about.”

Krista agreed reluctantly, closing the door behind her as she stepped out into the morning air. 

“Perhaps we could return here for tea? I imagine that we will not be staying at your grandmother’s for long, Krista, seeing as she is in such poor health.” Bertholdt said as the walked to the carriage. It was already waiting for them, and they all stepped in. 

“That would be delightful.” Krista replied. 

Conversation was scarce on the journey, besides from petty small talk between Bertholdt and Krista. Krista noticed that Annie seemed to be deep in thought; this was not unusual, but Krista felt she was more focused than what was normal. Annie did not say a single word on the journey, choosing to look out out of the small carriage window instead. With each mile that they drew closer to her grandmother’s home, Krista became more and more nervous. 

How would her grandmother act? Would she completely ignore what had happened? Or would the woman ridicule and belittle her in front of her companions? No, that was out of the question. She silently prayed that she would be ignored.

It was stiflingly hot outside. Krista balled her hands into fists and took a deep breath before knocking on the front door. 

“Miss Lenz, Mr Hoover, Mr Braun, Miss Leonhart,” said the maid that answered, curtseying politely. “Welcome.”

Krista smiled at her; the maid led them upstairs where they were greeted by Hanji.

“Mr Zoe,” Reiner said, greeting the doctor with a smile. “Thank you for allowing us the visit.”

Hanji smiled at him. “It is no problem. Mrs Lenz is awake at present, though she is not feeling particularly well. She may not be able to talk for long.”

“That is perfectly fine.” Annie said bluntly. “May we go to speak to her now?”

Hanji looked at her questioningly before answering. “You may. We have prepared chairs for you.” 

Mrs Lenz was sat up tentatively in bed when they entered. The maid tending to her left the room as Annie walked in and sat down with Krista, Bertholdt and Reiner in tow. 

“Mrs Lenz.” She said, more politely than Krista had ever heard her speak before. “I hope to hear that you are feeling better?”

Mrs Lenz looked at Annie suspiciously before pushing herself up slightly. Not once did her eyes fall on Krista, who had no idea how to feel about her grandmother’s disdain. She simply prayed that she would not be left alone with the woman.

“I am, thank you, Miss Leonhart.” Mrs Lenz said. “I believe you wish to discuss preparations for the ball at Krista’s estate?”

“If that is agreeable with you.”

Mrs Lenz let out a small, weak laugh, followed by a cough. “I would not have it any other way. I wish to oversee each and every detail, as I would never trust Krista to organise an event such as this.”

Bertholdt looked over at Krista, concerned by her hurt expression. Annie noticed this, but said nothing of it, instead getting started with the organising with Mrs Lenz. Reiner joined in, too, and Krista was left with Bertholdt in an uncomfortable silence that she did not know how to break. 

In order to try and soothe her nerves, she thought of Ymir. When they were together, their conversation seemed to pass so freely, as long as Krista kept her curiosity at bay, and stopped herself from asking too many questions. Slowly, the conversation between Annie and Mrs Lenz faded into a gentle murmur, and she allowed her mind to explore and imagine and situation that she wanted. Krista found herself thinking of the kiss that Sasha and Connie shared on their wedding day. She wondered what her first kiss would be like. Would it be rushed or gentle? Would it be with Bertholdt, or somebody else? 

Krista jumped, realising that she needed to talk to him. She could not let her grandmother see her passively sitting there, waiting for Bertholdt to talk to her! She would surely become even more angry - or worse, more sick. 

“Mr Hoover,” she said. “Do you have any contributions to the planning of this ball?”

Bertholdt laughed. “No, Miss Lenz, I am afraid I know not the first thing about balls.”

Mrs Lenz stopped mid sentence to listen to their conversation. 

Krista wanted very badly to tell Bertholdt that she too had no knowledge of how balls were run, at least, according to her grandmother; but she kept her crude comments at bay and replied non-committally with a laugh. 

“Perhaps we would be better off in the drawing room, then; would that be more appropriate for you, Mrs Lenz?”

The woman replied in affirmation, and Reiner decided to join them. She cast Krista a strict glare just as they left, which did not go unnoticed by Annie. Krista heard them talking as she walked down the stairs to the drawing room, followed by Reiner and Bertholdt. They were brought tea and sat down in the spacious room. Krista wanted nothing more than to start reading, but knew that since her grandmother had released her from her company, she was expecting something in return; no doubt, this came in the form of maintaining Bertholdt’s attention for the duration of time her grandmother was awake. So she tried her best, and decided to ask him of his home in the North. It was a topic she knew he liked, and one she did not have to listen too intently to. Reiner joined in with the conversation, too, and they happily recalled childhood memories together. 

Meanwhile, Annie and Mrs Lenz were quickly refining the details for the ball. Every officer and soldier was invited, along with almost everybody else from the village and even those surrounding it; this was to be a grand affair, and Krista’s grandmother did nothing in halves. 

Annie found her to be just as abrasive and selfish as usual; she loathed the woman, but knew that if she desired this ball to be planned and completed, then she would have to try and overlook Mrs Lenz’s abundance of negative qualities. Annie noticed that she seemed much less ill now that Krista had left the room; she was propped up on her elbows, and she seemed much more aware. 

After about half an hour more of planning, they had finished. Annie was satisfied that it would be enjoyed by all; as was Mrs Lenz. 

“Mrs Lenz, pray tell; will you be of attendance?”

“I most certainly hope so; but whether my health will allow is another question.”

There was a soft knock at the door; it was Hanji. Annie immediately noticed the dark circles beneath the doctor’s eyes, the worried expression; it was not odd, Annie supposed, but Hanji looked especially ragged and worn.

“Miss Leonhart, I am afraid I must ask you to leave the room for now. It is not good for Mrs Lenz to be strained so.”

“Of course, Mr Zoe.”

“Thank you, Miss.” Hanji said. 

“Sir?” Annie asked slyly, realising that this was a very good opportunity for her. “May I speak with you once you are finished here?”

“Of course, Miss Leonhart. Please wait for me outside.”

Annie walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Of all the people to talk to, Mr Zoe would be one of the best. Annie needed to know what it was that caused Krista to feign feelings for Bertholdt. Why was the girl so secretive? And why could nobody else see past it?

Annie waited there for three minutes before Hanji came out of the room, a grim expression on her face. 

“She is not well. Not well at all.” The doctor said, wiping her brow with her sleeve. “Here, come into my room. What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

When the reached the doctor’s room, both women took a seat. Hanji shifted her posture nervously. 

“I wanted to talk to you about Krista. In short, I believe that there is something she is hiding from all of us, but she would never dare reveal it. It also appears that I am the only one to notice her odd behaviour. I simply wondered if you or her grandmother knew anything of it.” Annie said. 

Hanji took in a deep breath. “What kind of odd behaviour?”

“She appears to be constantly hiding her emotions; she always appears happy, yet she is so lifeless. The girl has an odd companionship with Bertholdt. He never does seem to notice it, but she is very much forced around him in particular.”

“I do know the reason why,” Hanji said, looking Annie in the eye. “But you must promise not to speak of it.”

“Certainly.” Annie lied. Once she got this information, she would do with it what she pleased. 

“It is entirely focused around her grandmother. The woman is sociopathic in behaviour; she cares not of the emotions of Miss Lenz, and she manipulates her endlessly. As a witness to this over the weeks, I must say that I am rather relieved that I finally have the opportunity to get this off of my chest, for it pains me to keep that poor girl’s misfortunes to myself when I know she can be helped.”

“I knew it,” Annie mumbled to herself. “But tell me, doctor; what does she desire Krista to do? What is the reason for her manipulation?”

“Marriage,” Hanji said simply, and Annie’s heart lurched.

“Marriage? To whom, may I ask?”

“To Mr Hoover, of course. Who else could it be?”

“Mr Hoover…” Annie said, her mind swimming. Krista? Marrying Bertholdt? Why had she not seen it before? Of course Krista would not want to marry him. 

“Mrs Lenz has manipulated her endlessly these past weeks, to the extent that I fear that Krista is in danger of an inescapable depression; she is teetering precariously on the edge of no return, and her grandmother is not helping. A few weeks ago, Miss Lenz managed to rouse her from a sleep I thought she would never wake from, and the woman, in return, gave her the worst verbal battering I have ever seen. She blamed the girl for her mother’s death, her father’s depression… it is no wonder the girl is in ruins. 

“And then, to make matters worse, Mrs Lenz has led the poor girl to believe that the time she has not spent with Mr Hoover has made her sickness worse, and that if she does not marry him, then she will surely die; I am torn in two. I simply have not the first clue of what to do.”

Annie was shocked into silence. She knew that Mrs Lenz was a horrible woman, but had never expected this level of cruelty from her. Annie found herself worrying for Krista, strangely; though this was short-lived, as she came to a realisation. If Bertholdt proposed to Krista, then surely, she would say yes, in order to try and save her grandmother. But her grandmother would certainly die soon anyway. 

“How long do you think Mrs Lenz has to live?” Annie asked her.

“It is hard to say,” the doctor replied. “I would not say more than a month. However, her heart is in such a fragile condition that any sudden shock could see her over to the other side. It is hard to make a guess.”

Annie looked down thoughtfully. “Well, I thank you, doctor. Your information has enlightened me.”

“It is not a problem, Miss Leonhart.” 

 

*****

Annie, Reiner, Bertholdt and Krista retired back to the Lenz estate, where they stopped to have tea. While they sat, Annie’s mind was still reeling from what the doctor had told her; thus, she remained quiet. Bertholdt talked with Krista about the ball, and they shared their excitement. Annie saw through Krista’s words, however. It was even more obvious to her now; how was everyone else missing it? The vacant stares when she thought nobody was watching, the smiles that never reached her eyes, her constantly shaking hands. 

Annie knew that she could not keep the secret to herself. If things continued the way they were, then everything would get much worse than it already was. Annie felt as if she had to do something and not just for Krista’s sake; it was more because Annie did not want to let Mrs Lenz get away with being able to manipulate and control without some sort of consequence.

But who would she tell? Bertholdt? Suddenly, she felt incredibly anxious; how could she tell him? He was smitten with Krista, he adored her. How could Annie hurt his feelings like that? She doubted Dr Zoe would tell him, and she had no evidence. It was fruitless. Reiner, perhaps? No. He would not understand.

Annie knew she needed to find something that could help her. Evidence, perhaps; something that could support the claim that Krista was being forced to marry someone she did not want to. She did not care particularly for what Krista would do, but she did not want Bertholdt to marry someone who did not love him. It was a feeling she could hardly explain to herself.

“Miss Leonhart, are you feeling quite alright?”

Annie quickly realised her opportunity. “I do feel quite ill,” she lied.

Krista looked worried. “Would you like to lie down?” She asked. 

“Yes, very much so…” Annie tried to make her voice sound as faint as possible. 

Krista excused herself and went to help Annie. With the help of Miss Peters, they managed to take her up the stairway and to one of the rooms. 

“Here, this one is next to mine. Lie down here.” Krista said. “Would you like Miss Peters to stay, or would you prefer to be left alone?”

“I would like to be alone, please,” Annie said. Perfect. When Krista was gone, she would sneak into Krista’s room. Perhaps there would be a diary Annie could read; something of the sorts would do.

When Krista left, Annie slowly got out of bed and entered Krista’s room, being as quiet as possible. She searched through the dresser, and found nothing but old dress designs and the occasional sheet of blank paper. There was no diary, nothing. Annie had almost given up when she spotted an unsent letter. It was addressed to Mrs Lenz. Quickly, she read it. 

Mother,

I am writing to you now to express to you my deepest expressions of anger towards the way that you treat my daughter. For her whole life you have treated her poorly, and I have now come to a point where I will take nothing more. You are no longer welcome here.

Henry. 

Annie’s mouth was agape as she read. The letter was not sealed, so Annie had no way of knowing if Krista had read it or not. The date read that it was written months ago, shortly after Bertholdt, herself, and Reiner had arrived; why had he not sent it? And what had the grandmother said which had provoked such a response? Annie could guess quite well. Suddenly she realised that she needed to get back into her bed; there was a chance a maid could come to check on her. 

As Annie lay in the bed and thought, something dawned on her. Should the opportunity arise, she thought, she would definitely be able to force things to go her way.


	16. Lost and Found

On the day before the ball, Krista was stirred from her sleep by Ymir shaking her gently awake. It was a still and sunny morning, with the familiar beam of light trickling through the gap in the curtain. As Krista sat up and rubbed her eyes, Ymir pulled open the curtains, letting the light flood into the room.

"It is so bright today!" Ymir exclaimed as she poured Krista some tea. She was in a very good mood this morning after an early talk with Mr Lenz about the day's activity.

"Yes, it is." Krista barely acknowledged her.

"Krista? Is something wrong?" Ymir asked.

"No… well, nothing in particular." Krista said, still slightly dazed from having only just woken up.

"You could tell me anything, Krista, even the smallest of problems." Ymir said.

"It is nothing, just… I am fearful for tomorrow's ball."

"Whyever so?"

"Well, after what happened at the last ball, I fear that I will make a fool of myself."

Ymir looked scornfully at her. "Krista, do not be ridiculous. Here, drink your tea." Krista looked up at her and smiled ever so slightly. "I have told you countless times; you did nothing wrong at the ball all those weeks ago. That is why your father wrote that letter, is it not? Even if it was not sent, it still counts as his feelings, you know. Oh! And, speaking of your father, you must get up and dressed, Krista. He has made plans for you today."

"Plans? My father? He is leaving the house?" Krista asked incredulously, sitting up.

"Ha! I knew that would work. Yes, I believe he wants to visit the cemetery with you. And," Ymir said, smiling, "he asked me to drive the horses."

Krista's face broke out into a smile. "He wants to take me to see mother?" It had been years since Krista had visited her mother's grave with her father. He used to take her when she was younger. She had never gone alone before; the prospect of seeing her mother without her father there simply did not feel right to her.

"Yes, he does."

"And, you shall be there, too?"

"Yes, I shall."

Krista let out a laugh, smiling happily for the first time in weeks. "It shall be a wonderful day!" She exclaimed, getting out of bed left the room while Krista dressed. She was so excited for a day where she would not be alone, or in company she was not comfortable in; and to see her father! It had been days since they had even dined together, so the prospect of spending the whole day with him seemed magical to Krista.

Krista came out of the room smiling, which warmed Ymir's heart. It was not often that she got to see Krista that way. It refreshed her to see the sparking blue in her eyes again, as they had become so dull and lifeless in the past weeks. When Henry Lenz had spoken to Ymir that morning, she had been overjoyed at his words. Because despite her deepest efforts to make Krista happier, Mr Lenz could do something Ymir could not. He was her father, and Krista needed his attention, especially as her mother was gone. There was only so much time Ymir could spend with Krista, too - her duties as a maid came first, or she ran the risk of being sacked and turned out on the streets. Ymir never wanted to face that fate again.

"Have you already dined for breakfast, Ymir?" Krista asked.

"I am afraid I have, Krista. I had to dine early so I could prepare the horses for the carriage."

"Oh. Well, never mind. I will still see you for the rest of the day!" And with that, Krista skipped downstairs to eat breakfast with her father.

Ymir could not say that it did not surprise her to see Krista so happy so quickly, when she had been so melancholy before. But, then again, Krista was not one to be sad when she did not have reason to. Ymir was glad that Krista could spend the day before the ball without worrying, and instead, spending time with her father.

The carriage left at ten o'clock, with Ymir at the front, driving the horses. The cemetery was not far away, only the town over; their particular church did not have one, and Krista's mother expressed the wish to not be buried on the estate. Krista held a bunch of flowers in her hands that she had picked from the garden.

Krista did not dare to ask her father why today was the day he had decided to take her, in case he change his mind; she knew her worry was a paltry one, but she felt it all the same. Still, she tried to cast it from her mind, instead admiring the countryside as it rolled by.

"Krista, my daughter," her father said, "I see that you are wearing your mother's bracelet."

She smiled at him. "I thought that she would like to see me wearing it. Do you agree?"

"Why, of course I do. I am not sure that she would like anything more." He paused. "I am sorry that it has been so long since we went to visit your mother."

"Father, it is alright. You need not worry. Sometimes I forget that mother is watching over us, but I am always grateful to have you still."

Mr Lenz smiled sadly and looked into his lap. "Please, Krista; tell me of your doings at this time. I know that the ball takes place tomorrow, but I wish to know more of your feelings."

"Well…" Krista began. Was it alright for her to tell her father how worried she was about her grandmother? About the ball, and Bertholdt? There was nobody in the carriage she did not trust. And she was tired of keeping her feelings hidden. "I have not been as high-spirited as I would usually be, but that is alright; one cannot always be happy!"

"What has been troubling you, my dear?"

"It is nothing of particular importance…" Krista said, and as she did, she noticed the way Ymir's back straightened and her hands gripped the reigns more tightly. Krista sighed; she could tell Ymir needed her to tell the truth. "Simply, I am worried. It is Mr Hoover's last day here tomorrow, and I am scared that if he does not propose to me, then grandmother will surely hate me; I am so afraid, father. What if her health worsens? She could die!"

Mr Lenz looked at her with a sadness in his eyes that Krista knew all too well. It was an expression she had come to see every time she glimpsed her reflection in a passing mirror or window.

"I suppose you have been wondering why I have barely come with you to see your grandmother, Krista. I truly do admire you for having the ability to make those trips alone. The reason why I have not gone is because, truly, I do not take kindly to being around her. She has, through the years, fueled this depression I have held so tightly to me. You and your mother were the best things to ever happen to me, and she treats you both like you are nothing. That is why I wanted to take you here today. It is because I want to show you both that I still care; that I still love you.

"To me it matters not whether you marry Mr Hoover or not; though, from what I have seen, it is evident that he admires you greatly. Your grandmother is a selfish, stubborn woman, and she does not take kindly to being told that she can not do something. She obsesses over achievements, which, I speculate, is because she never achieved her childhood dream. But is not your fault that she married; that was her choice."

Krista's mind was reeling. Her grandmother was the reason why she hardly saw her father? She felt the beginnings of anger begin to rise in her chest; how dare her grandmother treat her father that way? When she looked over at Ymir, Krista could see that she was angry too. She did not say anything, instead smiling at her father and ignoring her feelings.

It was not long after that until they reached the cemetery. It was large, but Krista knew her way; she weaved through the headstones, walking quickly, anticipation growing inside of her with every step she took. It took barely more than a minute before she reached the gravestone. Mr Lenz and Ymir walked behind her. Ymir wore her bonnet pulled low over her face, and she cast her eyes around nervously. Churches had always unnerved her.

"Hello, mother," Krista said softly, as she set the flowers down on the soft earth.

Ymir watched her from a few feet away, stood next to Mr Lenz. The maid could not help but admire the way the sunbeams bounced from her hair, making the blonde curls dance in the light. Ymir could not hear what Krista was saying, but she could tell it meant a lot to her simply by the way she was standing. Ymir glanced over at Mr Lenz, and saw that he had tears in his eyes. She did not have the first idea of what to say, and so decided to let him watch his daughter in silence.

"Miss Ymir," he said eventually. "You never did tell me your last name."

"Well, sir," Ymir said. "You did say I did not have to."

"That is true." He laughed. "But tell me; why not just change your name, if you wanted your identity to remain hidden?"

"I would never change my name. I keep secrets, Mr Lenz, but I will not deceive you."

"That much is fair enough." He paused for a moment, watching Krista. "She is so beautiful, is she not?"

Ymir laughed softly. "I will not disagree with you." She said quietly.

"You know, Miss Ymir, I am very much glad that I hired you."

"Really, sir?"

He smiled at her with the same sadness in his eyes as before. Ymir noticed his hands; they shook just like Krista's. "Yes." He said. "In all honesty, the reason why I took you into employment was because I knew that Krista needed somebody. A friend. Somebody that she could talk to, somebody that would make her laugh when I could not."

Ymir found herself smiling; she glowed with happiness. "It is an honour to be your daughter's friend, sir."

"I am glad you see all the good she has to give."

Krista approached them moments later. She was still smiling. Ymir had not realised just how much family had meant to her, and that was something she could simply not understand. What must it be like to have a father that loved you?

"Father, I have finished talking to mother now. Would you like a turn?"

"Yes, I would." Mr Lenz walked to the tombstone and admired Krista's choice of flowers.

"It is odd to be outside together, is it not?" Krista said.

"It is, quite." Ymir said. "So, Krista, what did you talk to your mother about?"

"Well, I hoped she could hear me. I asked if she would help me make the right choices."

Ymir laughed and looked at her. "I have already told you how to do that, months ago."

"I still remember." Krista smiled at her feet. "I just need more courage, is all."

"I will not argue with that." She smirked at Krista.

Krista looked at her through narrowed eyes, a grin twitching at her lip. Eventually she gave in and laughed, and Ymir joined in with her.

"Krista, would you play for me tonight?" Ymir asked eventually.

"Of course I will." Krista replied. "What would you like me to play?"

"The first song I heard you play." Ymir said without a hint of hesitation. "I adore the way you play Mozart."

"I really do find it fascinating that you enjoy my music so."

"Who would not?" Ymir asked incredulously.

Krista looked down suddenly. "My grandmother," she mumbled.

Ymir was struck with panic; she did not know what to do. She needed to make Krista feel better again. "You hold no obligation to entertain that old hag, Krista." She said eventually.

"She is still my family, Ymir!" Krista said, annoyed; but Ymir still saw the smile hiding behind her scowl.

The conversation came to a natural end, and Krista and Ymir stood in a comfortable silence. They watched Mr Lenz sitting at the grave. As she looked at her father, Krista realised that she knew very little about him. Who had he been? Who had he grown up with? Krista knew none of his friends, and his parents had died before she was born.

He walked back to them eventually, and they started to make their way back to the carriage. Krista gave her mother's gravestone one last fleeting glance and a final whispered 'goodbye' before they left to return to the estate she knew all too well.

*****

"My god, you play so well! How do you do it?"

"I have simply practised, is all!"

"I can barely do one hand… let alone both at the same time!"

"Look, do it like this."

Krista gently took Ymir's hands in her own and guided them across the keys, showing her the movements she should be making. Ymir worried that Krista would be able to hear her heart beating through her chest. Were her palms sweating?

"I-I think I have it now," she said, swallowing nervously. Her body felt flooded with warmth. Was Krista aware of what she was doing to her? Shivers shot down her spine, and a blush crawled up her cheeks.

"Good!" Krista smiled happily, taking her hands away. Ymir exhaled quickly. "Now try it again."

Ymir tried again, and to her surprise, she had made considerable progress. "I am shocked, Krista! You really are a good teacher."

"And that is a shock to you? I am offended, deeply." Krista grinned at her.

Ymir smiled back. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to relish in this moment of happiness she was experiencing, and wished from the bottom of her heart that she could stay in Krista's world forever.


	17. Bliss

Annie dined for breakfast with Reiner and Bertholdt on the day of the ball. It was a cloudier day than usual, but still warm. The trio were due to arrive at the Lenz estate at seven o’clock. It was an unusually tense meal, and there was hardly a word spoken. 

“Bertholdt. Whatever is the matter?” Reiner asked eventually. “You look positively ill.” 

Bertholdt smiled. “I must admit that I do feel rather ill,” he said, “but not without good reason.”

“Well, what is it?” Annie asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes. 

“I have kept this from you too long, my dear friends; but I wish to propose to Miss Lenz tonight.”

Annie felt her heartbeat quicken and blood rushed to her cheeks. She desperately tried to compose herself, but her efforts proved futile; she was flustered. She ignored Reiner’s sideways glance.

“Congratulations, Bertholdt, my friend!” Reiner laughed, still looking at Annie from the corner of his eye. 

“I wish you my best, Bertholdt.” She said quietly, while Bertholdt blushed, and then excused herself from the table and retreated to her room. This was not good for her. She had convinced herself that he would not propose to Krista, that he did not really like her; but she had been wrong. She would have to hurt him now, as much as she was reluctant to. 

Annie spent the rest of the day alone, while Bertholdt and Reiner discussed Krista and the ball. She was not interested in their preparations; instead, she made her own. At around five o’clock, she announced that she was going to head to the Lenz estate early, to check that everything had gone in accordance to the way she and Mrs Lenz had planned a week before. 

She was ready a lot early than she had initially expected to be, and when she finally came down to the living room, her appearance issued a gasp from both men; she wore a dress of the palest blue, which perfectly matched the colour of her eyes, and her hair was tied in an elegant top knot, every hair flawlessly in place.

“I would assume you would be hosting the ball, dressed in that fashion,” Reiner said playfully. “But you really do look beautiful, Annie.”

“There is no need for such politeness.” Annie said, scowling at them. Bertholdt did not say a word; he simply stared at his feet, occasionally letting his eyes flicker towards Annie. 

“Are you sure you wish to take the journey alone, my cousin?” Reiner asked, concerned.

“I am perfectly capable, Reiner. You think so lowly of me; you know I am stronger than most men would care to boast.”

Bertholdt laughed at this under his breath, agreeing completely. In all of the world, there was surely not another woman quite like the one standing before him. 

“Fine, then travel alone.” Reiner said. “I will see you in a few hours, when we arrive.” 

With that, Annie left. The journey did not take too long, though she was displeased by the gentle pattering of rain that had begun to fall from the dark clouds. When she arrived, Krista met her at the door. 

“Miss Leonhart, you look positively wonderful!” She exclaimed, inviting Annie inside. Annie saw the same false expression in her eyes. “What brings you here so prematurely? Is something the matter?” There was a detectable quiver of anxiety in her voice.

“No, there is nothing wrong.” Annie said. “I simply came to check that everything was going in accordance to the plan your grandmother and I made.”

“Well, I am sure that one of the maids - ah! Miss Peters, could you please escort Miss Leonhart around the ballroom, and check that everything is in order?”

“Certainly, miss.” The maid said, curtseying politely. 

“This is very appreciated, Miss Lenz.” Annie said. 

“It is not a worry,” Krista replied. “I would show you myself, but I have not yet dressed for the ball.”

“Have you designed your dress, Miss Lenz? I remember that you have a knack for such things.”

“No, I have not; not this time.” Krista smiled.

“Ah, very well.” Annie said. “Well, Miss Peters, was it not?” The maid nodded and took Annie to examine the ballroom.

Krista retreated to her bedroom, where Ymir was sat, waiting. 

“Are you still feeling nervous, Krista?” She asked. 

“Ymir? I thought you were downstairs. What are you doing up here?” 

“I wanted to come and see if you were alright, or if you needed anything.”

“I am quite fine,”Krista said. She noticed that her heartbeat had quickened since she had entered the room. Her eyes were even more drawn to Ymir’s face than they usually were; it was tirelessly beautiful, she thought. She shocked herself with this realisation, but the more she thought of it, the more she realised that it was true; she found Ymir to be beautiful. She felt it from the very bottom of her chest. Not just in her looks, either; she was beautiful for the way she talked, for her slight accent. For the way she smiled so freely and without a care. For the way she made Krista feel. 

The two girls talked for half an hour or so, before Krista realised that she needed to get dressed and ready. She excused herself from Ymir’s presence, and went downstairs to find Miss Peters. Would she be finished with Annie yet? When she entered the ballroom, Miss Peters was there, but there was no sign of Annie.

“Oh! Miss Lenz!” Miss Peters said, walking over to Krista. “Miss Leonhart asked me to inform you that we should make minor changes to the ballroom, and that she was going to talk to your father about it. I think they are in the downstairs drawing room, if you would like to see them.”

“That is alright, Miss Peters.” Krista said. “Would you be able to send someone to help me dress?” 

“I am afraid we are all busy down here for the meantime. Would you like me to take you now, and complete this after? Oh - I thought that Miss Ymir was with you; could she not help?”

Ymir? Dress her? The thought sent a shiver down Krista’s spine. Was it alright to have Ymir touch her that way? To see her and dress her? Surely it was no different to any of the other maids doing it, was it not?

“That should be fine; I will ask her.” Krista smiled and walked back up to her floor. When she came into the room, Ymir was still there.

“The maids are busy,” she said, “so you shall have to dress me, Ymir, if that is acceptable with you.”

Ymir blushed suddenly. “O-of course,” she stuttered, tightening her hands into fists.

“Very well. I must go and get my dress.” She said, and went to go to find her father.   
Mr Lenz, on the carriage ride home from the cemetery, asked Krista if she would wear one of her mother’s old dresses to the ball, and Krista had been more than happy to oblige. 

“Father?” She knocked hesitantly on the door of the drawing room. It opened and Annie walked out, curtseying as she passed. Krista went to walk in but out stormed her father, too; he walked right past her to go and get his coat. 

“Father, whatever is the matter?” Krista asked when she saw her father’s angered expression. “Where are you going at this time? 

“I am going to pay a visit to your grandmother, Krista.” He said harshly, before softening when he saw her expression. “I shall be back in time for the ball, do not fret.”

“Are you alright, father? Do you wish me to go with you?” 

“I am fine, Krista, and you must stay here.-” There was still tenseness in his tone.

The girl breathed a sigh of relief. He did not seem alright to her, but she knew her father would not lie to her. “Father, where is mother’s dress that you asked me to wear?”

“It is in my bedroom; now, I must be going.”

He said not one more word and left, shutting the door behind him with a slam. Why was he visiting her grandmother now? In her worry, Krista had totally forgotten that he had been talking to Annie, and instead tried to put the moment from her mind; he was fine, and she had more important things to worry about. 

She retrieved the dress from her father’s wardrobe and took it to her room. her heart was beating furiously in her chest and her mouth had gone dry. When she entered her bedroom, Ymir was sat down at her dresser. The maid’s eyes immediately turned to her when she walked in and lay the dress down on her bed. 

“It is not long until the ball begins, Ymir.” She said quietly. She felt as if her words were being drowned out by the deafening pounding of her heart.

Ymir stood up quickly, smoothing out the front of her dress. “Then I suppose we should begin. Come here.”

Krista shut the door behind her softly and slowly made her way to Ymir. She stood in front of her; Ymir began by taking out Krista’s hair from its bun and letting it fall down her back in loose curls. She then took it up in one sweeping motion, letting it fall forwards onto her shoulder. Krista could feel Ymir’s breath on her exposed neck; the sensation ignited a small flame within her chest and her breath hitched. Her body went incredibly still as Ymir began to undo the buttons of her dress. 

Sparks exploded on Krista’s skin where Ymir touched it; as the maid slowly began to pull Krista’s arms free from her sleeves, her own breathing got deeper and heavier. With half of her back exposed to Ymir, Krista felt her knees beginning to go weak. Ymir could not stop staring at Krista’s snowy, pale skin; it was flawless, unblemished. She could not help herself from reaching out to touch it. Her fingers were delicate as they traced patterns onto Krista’s back. Krista let out a quiet sigh and the flame inside of her grew. Never in her life had she felt this way. Every worry she had accumulated, every fear, every ounce of sadness; they had been whisked away in mere seconds, simply by Ymir’s expert touch. 

The sound of rain was soothing to Krista. “Do you remember the last time it rained this heavily, Ymir?” She whispered.

“How could I ever forget?” Ymir had undone the last button; she removed the dress and Krista stood wearing only her corset and undergarments. What, she wondered, made this so much different than any other time she had been dressed by a maid? “It was such a cold night.” She laughed softly. “Remember how we were both sick? Come, and sit on the bed. I need to change your stockings.”

Krista sat; she was now facing Ymir, which only served to feed the growing fire in her chest. She could not take her eyes from Ymir’s face. Oh how, how had she not noticed how beautiful Ymir was before? She had always found the girl fascinating, but she had been blind to her comely features. How her dark hair framed her face perfectly, the scattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks. The way she looked at Krista like there would never be enough of her to see. 

Her hands glided over Krista’s skin; it reminded her of a song. What a sweet melody that song would have, if it were real. It would surely be the most perfect song Krista would ever hear. When her stocking had been changed Ymir stood up and pulled Krista by the hand so that she would be standing too. She slid her camisole off and then began to undo the knots of her corset. Krista breathed deeply as the tight fabric loosened. Ymir took the other corset from the bed and got the laces ready before unclasping the corset and taking it completely off. She changed it quickly to give Krista her modesty and clasped the new corset with surprising speed. Ymir then moved around to Krista’s back and began tightening the corset. Another sigh came from Krista’s mouth as the corset forced the air out of her lungs. 

“Is it too tight?” Ymir asked quietly.

“No, it is just right,” Krista replied. Ymir took the fresh camisole and draped it over her shoulders, tying it at the front. 

“It is time for the dress now,” Ymir said, taking the garment from the bed. It took a while to get on due to all of the petticoats and the worked in silence; eventually, they had finished. Ymir tied Krista’s hair in a fashion Krista was she surprised she knew how to do, and then she was ready. 

Since the first day she had been working at the Lenz estate, Ymir had thought that Krista was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. But the Krista she was looking at now was like an entirely different woman. She was flawless, pristine; her eyes glowed in the pale glow of the light, her cheeks were flushed, and her curls fell in perfect ringlets. She did not look like the weak and frightened girl she had met on that first day; she looked untouchably beautiful, in an almost ethereal sense.

“The dress… it fits you so perfectly,” Ymir said.

“Father said it would,” Krista replied. Looking at the clock, she saw that it read six thirty. It was not long before she was due downstairs to greet her guests. Ignoring her hesitancy, Krista took a step forward towards Ymir.

“Thank you for dressing me, Ymir.”

“It was… it was a pleasure. Really,” Ymir said, shyness suddenly coming ove rher like it never had before. She, too, took a step forward. She looked at the way Krista’s eyes were trained onto her face, burning with intensity. Without thinking Ymir extended her arm and placed it onto Krista’s shoulder, pulling her the final step closer. Their faces were impossibly close. The moment was senseless, without thought; they simply looked at each other, unable to take their eyes away.

“I never want anything more than to be around you, Krista.” Ymir whispered. 

“Then… come a little closer, and do not let me go.” Krista murmured, and reached up to touch Ymir’s face, rubbing her thumb gently over the maid’s cheek. Ymir closed her eyes and without a hint of hesitation, Krista tilted her head to the right slightly, and pulled Ymir’s lips to hers.

The initial touch of their lips sent shivers down Krista’s spine and her knees almost buckled from beneath her. Their kiss started off slowly, but it was unlike anything Krista had ever experienced. Every other sensation drifted from her mind, and she was left with only the feeling of pure ecstasy as they kissed. Ymir’s lips were soft, and they kissed just as ardently as Krista’s; it was as if they could taste that the other needed more with every kiss. With one of her hands stroking Krista’s hair, and the other on her waist, Ymir pulled the small girl closer to her, engulfed by a flaming passion that took the place of the emptiness she had been feeling for years. 

They were so close that Krista could feel Ymir’s heart beating against her chest, and knowing that she had caused this only make Krista kiss her more passionately. It became faster, and Krista found herself breathing heavily. She almost wanted to cry; nothing in her life had ever held comparison to this pure bliss before, and she doubted it ever would. Was this what true happiness was supposed to feel like? Why had she let herself be so sad for so long? She could finally understand why Ymir made her choices for herself; if this was what it felt like, then she would choose this feeling without question. 

Krista moved her hand from Ymir’s cheek to run it through her hair. It was soft and smooth, and Krista felt it fall from its band and cascade down onto her shoulders. She twirled the strands through her fingers before running her hand down Ymir’s back, eliciting a quiet sigh of pleasure from the girl. There was no part of Ymir that Krista did not want to touch; the need to pull her closer was all-consuming, but her nose was already brushing against Ymir’s cheek as they kissed, and her skirt was getting in the way.

Krista had no idea how much time had passed, nor did she care; the tiny spark that Ymir had ignited inside of her had turned into a ball of fire, and she had lost all control. Her arms were covered with goosebumps and her hair stood on end; Ymir was electrifying, she could carry on with this forever…

Until Ymir pushed her back, gasping and flushed red, eyes wide with horror at what had just happened and breathing heavily. She instantly began to apologise, mortified.

“Miss Lenz, I- I had no idea what happened, I-”

Krista took several deep breaths before attempting to speak, but all she could do was smile. 

“Ymir, why are you apologising? That - that was wonderful, I cannot begin to describe how I feel in this moment-”

“I should never have done that, Krista, I must say that I am sorry, do you not see?”

“No, as I am the one who k-kissed you! Ymir,” Krista took a step forward again, her voice softening. “I just want to know who you are,”

Ymir looked down at her feet, then back up at Krista, whose eyes still shone with wonder and delight. “I suppose I could tell you,” she said, and opened her mouth to speak again.

It was at this moment that they were interrupted by a gentle knocking on the door. Krista looked at Ymir in horror and both girls tried to smooth their appearances before Krista granted the person to enter.

“Miss Lenz, you must come downstairs! The guests shall be arriving soon,” Miss Peters said, oblivious to Krista’s still-heavy breathing and Ymir’s flushed cheeks. 

“Is my father back yet? He said he would be back soon…”

“Mr Lenz has not arrived back yet,”

Ymir nodded to Krista, who was hastily putting on her gloves, shoes and bonnet. Then she quickly followed Miss Peters out of the room and shut the door behind her, leaving Ymir alone in her room to think about what had just happened, and wonder what on earth she would do next.


	18. Elizabeth Lenz

Henry Lenz ignored the biting cold of the evening rain. Hands gripped tightly around the reigns of his horse, he leaned forward to try and go faster. It was getting surprisingly dark for such an hour; a swarm of dark grey clouds had replaced the usual blue of the summer sky. The rushing of blood through his ears deafened him, and all he could feel was anger. He could hardly believe what the girl had told him. What had her name been? Miss Leonhart? Henry could barely think; he was so focused on getting to his mother’s house that every other thought that crossed his mind seemed insignificant. 

There was no denying that he had not noticed how unhappy his daughter had become, but due to his own sadness Henry had not inquired upon what was making her feel that way. He hated himself even more for that; he had promised to make her happy. How could he make it up to her? It seemed an impossible task. 

Eventually Mrs Lenz’s house came into view. He tied up the horse in the stable with great difficulty, which only served to fuel his anger. His hands were shaking and he could feel his heart pounding his chest; heat flushed through his body and he found himself striding through the door without being shown in. 

He knew his way to the room where his mother was sleeping. He strode up the staircase and to the room, trying to control his breathing and failing. He did not quite know what he would say to his mother, but knew that it would surely come to him in the moment. Due to his anger, he had not the mental capacity to formulate a plan. 

“Mr Lenz?” A voice came from behind him. “What are you doing here? Should you not be at the ball by now?”

It was Hanji. Mr Lenz to face the doctor, and opened his mouth to speak to her, but he was interrupted from a voice on the other side of the door. 

“Henry? have you finally come and made an appearance?” A cough. “Come in at once!”

He ignored the doctor’s puzzled expression and quickly entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He heard Mr Ackerman come and take her downstairs, despite her protests.

“Henry! Why on earth are you here?”

Mr Lens drew in a deep breath before responding. “I have come to talk to you about Krista, mother.”

The elderly woman sighed angrily and rolled her eyes. From outside, the rain poured harder. “What about the girl? Why are you not at the ball?” Though she was weaker than ever, the suspicion and irk in Mrs Lenz’s voice was unmistakable. 

“That is not of importance, mother.” Again he breathed in slowly, trying to calm himself to no avail. “I have heard of the way you have been manipulating my daughter, and I want to tell you that I am not going to permit it.”

Mrs Lenz laughed. “Manipulate? I was not manipulating her! I am simply trying to help her! And from where did you hear such nonsense?”

“Help her? How could you have ever possibly thought that you were helping her?” His voice had risen to a shout. “She is miserable!”

“Yes, but that does not matter! The girl needs to marry!”

“Her name is Krista, mother! Call her by her name, you-”

“Henry. Calm down.”

He ignored her request and continued. His fists were clenched and he could feel his eye twitching. “You have made her like me!” His voice raised in pitch and volume as he spoke. “Have you not seen the look in her eyes? That emptiness? How could you look at her and think that that was the right thing to do? To force her into a marriage she did not want? And do you believe that I could ever want to see her in such a way? It kills me to know that she feels what I am feeling!”

For a split second Mrs Lenz looked shocked by his words, but her silence was momentary. “And who do you think made you that way? She killed your wife!”

Mr Lenz was stunned at the words that had come from his mother’s mouth. He was perfectly still for a moment. What had possessed her to utter such cruel and unkind words? Henry knew not; all he knew was the ball of anger that continued to rise in his chest. 

“You do not speak of my wife. ” His voice was soft, quiet, and foreboding. “My daughter did no such thing. And I am astonished that you would even suggest such it.”

“Henry, come on now. This is an overreaction!” There was a hint of fear in Mrs Lenz’s eyes as she looked at the manic expression of her son; she had always known him to be weak and easily manipulated. Never had she seen him as furious as this. 

“No it is not. I am sick of the way you have been treating my daughter. She is sixteen years old! She does not deserve the abuse you inflict upon her! I cannot believe that you had the audacity to treat her in such a way when you knew I was unable to care for her properly!” 

“You are simply lazy! Anybody could see that she was depressed! You are a terrible father who cannot even care for his own daughter and leaves his poor mother to die alone in her house, cared for only by some laughably obvious crossdresser and her accomplice! You are the abuser in this situation, you pathetic man!”

“Do not talk to me in such a way! I will not abide by your rules for a single second more! A point has come where I can stand it no longer; I refuse to be treated in this way, and I will not allow myself to be manipulated. You are a selfish, cruel, manipulative woman who deserves no care or sympathy! I could not care any less than I do now, after learning of what you have done to my dear daughter. We are no relatives of yours, and I cannot wait for the day on which we learn that we will never have to see you again!” With his final explosion of anger, Mr Lenz turned and struck the wall with his fist, causing spots of blood to appear on the wallpaper and his knuckles. 

Mrs Lenz opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was nothing but the torrential downpour and howling wind from outside to be heard. Instead, she gasped, and looked upon him with a more intense fear in her eyes. Mr Lenz knew not what to do; he had never seen such a dramatic change in someone’s demeanour. Mrs Lenz extended her arm, reaching for his hand with her own, which was shaking just as much as his had been.

As she reached out to Mr Lenz, the woman began coughing violently and choking for help, but her son ignored her pleas. She began to spasm violently, and Mr Lenz walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. His hands had stopped shaking and he walked calmly downstairs. Hanji caught him as he was making his way to the living room. 

“What happened, Mr Lenz? I heard shouting, what is wrong?”

“You may want to see to her, Zoe, before it is too late.”

“What are you talking about?” The doctor ran quickly up the stairs. 

“LEVI, COME HERE!” He heard her scream upon finding the woman. 

Mr Lenz calmly sat down and began to tend to his bleeding hand to the sounds of his mother seizuring upstairs and the doctor trying frantically to save her. He did not feel a twinge of regret; after all, this fate was inevitable, and now at least he could tell Krista that it was his fault and not hers.

He did find it rather odd that he did not care that his mother was dying, but after an entire life of belittling comments, manipulation, and plain disrespect, he was tired of the woman and her arrogance. As he bandaged his hand, he wondered idly if Krista would be upset. He imagined so. She was such a caring and kind person that she would not be able to help it, no matter how cruel her grandmother had been to her. She always put others before herself. That was part of the reason why he adored his daughter so, even though it caused her so much pain. 

Around twenty minutes later, the doctor and Mr Ackerman came down the stairs and into the living room, flustered and shocked. 

“Mr Lenz, your mother has died, I do not understand… do you not care? You were so calm… what on earth were you arguing about?”

Henry knew that the information that Annie had been told had been so in confidence, so he did not mention their conversation. Instead, he told her it was because of Mrs Lenz’s disrespect of his wife, which was partially true; she seemed to believe him without question, and did not ask him again. The doctor asked if Mr Lenz was moved at all by her passing, and he said that he was impartial to it. He had suffered and was sad for long enough, and strangely, this felt like closure to him. He was now just worried about his daughter, and made it clear to Hanji that he wanted to go and tell her about what had happened. 

“But what about the ball?” The doctor asked. “Would it not interrupt; do you not think it better to tell her afterwards?”

“No,” Mr Lenz replied simply. “I need to tell her as quickly as possible, in case she makes any rash mistake.”

Hanji understood, and saw Mr Lenz outside into the freezing rain. The man promised he would return the next day to discuss what would happen next, and Hanji thanked him.

His horse waited for him where he had tied it up. He mounted it quickly, and began to make his way back to the ball, and hoped he would make it back before his daughter became engaged to Mr Bertholdt Hoover.


	19. Ymir?

The jovial sounds of the evening’s ball were overwhelming to Krista, yet at the same time felt far too distant to be real. She felt dazed, still overcome with the feeling of Ymir’s lips upon her own, and could barely think as she walked about the ballroom. Eventually she heard Annie call her name and she walked to her, relieved to see somebody that could perhaps ground her wandering mind.

“Is everything alright, Miss Lenz?” Annie asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Oh yes, quite so,” Krista smiled back at her, looking out upon the ball. 

The well-decorated, elegant room was filled with people, all of whom were smiling and dancing to the vivacious music with glee. Krista could see Jean Kirstein dancing with a girl she did not know the name of, next to Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Jaeger, who seemed to be very much in love. The music filled Krista’s ears and the smile on her face widened as she thought of what had just happened to her. Everything seemed to glow with a hazy whiteness, shimmering happily in the light. 

What a kiss it had been, Krista thought, though supposedly it was wrong; how could Ymir even suggest such a thing? Krista pondered on the thought before her mind drifted back to the kiss once more. She could feel happiness in every part of her; it illuminated her smile, enhanced her senses, and gave her a soft tingling feeling that spread throughout her. 

“Miss Lenz?” 

Suddenly, the sound of Bertholdt’s voice woke Krista from her blissful daydream and brought back to harsh reality. Dread filled her as what she had done finally dawned on her; she was never supposed to have felt for Ymir that way - it should have been Bertholdt! What would happen to her grandmother if she found out what she had done? Once again she was flustered and nervous, and became more so when she realised that a painfully long time had passed before Bertholdt had spoken to her. 

“Yes, Mr Hoover?” She asked, her voice quivering.

He knelt and presented his hand. “May I ask you for a dance?” 

Krista smiled politely and curtseyed, momentary relief passing over her. “Of course you may,” She said, taking his hand. 

As they walked to the dancers, Krista caught a glimpse of jealousy in Annie’s eye, but thought nothing of it. They got into place and the song began - it was a merry tune, lively and fast; and Bertholdt smiled and laughed as he and Krista danced. 

“Miss Lenz, you truly look beautiful tonight; I have never seen a dress that looks so wonderful on you.”

Krista forced a playful smile and looked down at the floor. “Thank you, Mr Hoover.” She said.

How different this felt, Krista thought, than the last time she had been to a ball; it was almost as if she was a different person than the girl from months ago. She had been so much more happy at the ball at the Jaeger estate, and was so much less aware of her impression upon others; now, she made sure to carefully plan her every word to ensure her true feelings did not show. What would Ymir expect, now that they had finally embraced? Would she be proud of Krista for taking control and doing what she wanted? Krist hoped so, but she was worried as she remembered Ymir’s negative reaction… she had seemed like she regretting kissing her back, but why? 

“How have you been, Miss Lenz?” Bertholdt asked in his usual considerate manner.

“How kind of you to ask,” Krista smiled. “I am very well, thank you.” She spoke the lie so naturally; it was almost like a second language to her now. If only she could control her shaking hands as well. 

“That is good to hear.”

“And yourself, Mr Hoover? Have you all your things prepared for leaving tomorrow?” Krista asked kindly.

“Not quite, actually, but I am very much alright.” He said back, much to Krista’s surprise.

“Whyever not?” She asked incredulously. “You are still leaving tomorrow, are you not?”

“Well, Miss Lenz, I must speak to you about that -”

He was cut off as the dance came to an end. Bertholdt smiled at her apologetically as they bowed and went to speak to her again, but was interrupted once again by Mr Kirstein, who wished to dance with Krista. 

“Miss Lenz! You must do me the honour of a dance at once!” He exclaimed, and Krista reluctantly agreed, promising to talk to Bertholdt later.

“This room is truly marvellous,” Jean said as he led Krista to their places. “May I offer my utmost compliments.”

“Why thank you, Mr Kirstein,” Krista said as the dance began. “That is very appreciated.”

“It is my pleasure,” he said. “I do see that you have become very close with Mr Hoover.”

“Why, I like to think so. He has become a friend of mine over the last few months.”

Their conversation paused as the dance began, and Krista remembered the last time she had danced with Jean; he had taken her from Bertholdt then, too. Try as she might to dance correctly, something was distracting Krista from becoming focused. She could not stop thinking about what Bertholdt had said. Would he be staying longer? But why? 

There was something else, too. What was bothering her? Krista thought back through the day, trying to recall any memories that could help her. She tried hard not to think about the kiss and pressed harder, trying to remember. Suddenly, it dawned on her. Her father! Where was he? He promised that he would be back before the ball started, but he was not… Krista’s concern must have been evident on her face, for Jean asked her if she was okay, but she brushed him off. Why had he gone to see her grandmother, and what had he been talking to Annie about? What was going on? She had to go and find her father. If she could leave without anyone noticing, she could ask some of the maids if they knew where he was.

The dance passed and Krista made her excuses quickly after. Rushing away, she made her away from Jean and was about to exit the ballroom before someone grabbed her arm. She span around to see who it was. 

“Reiner?” She asked. “What is it?”

“Are you leaving?” He asked. 

“No!” Krista said quickly, unable to think of a believable lie under pressure.

“Good,” Reiner said. “Bertholdt wants to speak to you, but he is nervous again. If you would, please go and start a conversation.”

Krista wanted desperately to find her father, but could not leave now that Reiner was watching her. She supposed that it could wait while she spoke to Bertholdt. After all, she was curious as to why they were not ready to leave yet. 

Reiner thanked Krista as she retreated to the other end of the ballroom. She waited for a dance between Bertholdt and a girl named Mina Carolina to end. When it was over, she caught his eye and he walked over to her, looking nervous.

“Did Reiner ask you to come and speak to me?” He asked her. Krista could hear the tremble in his voice. 

“Yes, he did.” Krista smiled. 

“Oh, well, er, thank you for coming over.”

“Are you quite alright, Mr Hoover? You seemed to be fine when we spoke earlier.”

“I-I am fine!” He laughed nervously. What was going on now?

“What did you want to speak to me about?” Krista asked him. 

“Oh! Right! Well, I would actually like to speak to you in private, if that is alright.”

Krista looked quickly at Reiner, who was watching them from the other end of the ballroom. “Of course,” she said, and they made their way out of the ballroom and to a room where they would be alone. 

________________

Ymir sat alone in Krista’s bedroom. She felt sick to her stomach, and did not want to move at all. She touched her lips with one finger where Krista had kissed them. The skin was still tingling with the sensation, but all she felt was dread. How could she have let this happen again? Had she just ruined Krista’s life too, as well as her own? She would surely be thrown out onto the streets, never to see Krista again. And the girl had been so optimistic! For an intelligent girl, Krista was certainly very naive. 

Ymir instantly felt guilty for pushing the blame onto Krista. After all, she was only doing what Ymir had told her to all this time. The maid had just never expected that her feelings were reciprocated. It was not the first time that she had been shocked by Krista, though, and she doubted it would be her last. Ymir hated herself for letting Krista change her. What happened to only caring about herself? What about Krista made Ymir care for her so deeply, and why did Ymir prioritise Krista’s happiness over her own?

She was scared to leave the room in case somebody saw her. Instead she stood and walked to the window, where she watched the pouring rain slam into the ground with a great force. It had been raining just as hard as this on the day she had run away. She played through her memories in her mind, allowing herself to think about her old family. 

From the distance, Ymir could make out a figure riding towards the estate on horseback. Could it be Krista’s father? Was he finally returning from wherever he had gone? It had been far too long since he had left. Ymir considered the possibility of being seen by a guest and dismissed it; seeing Mr Lenz was too important to her. She was not sure why, but she felt as if she needed to talk to him; about what, she did not know. 

Ymir ran out of the room and down to the back staircase, which was empty. Her dress flew out from behind her as she ran. She left through the kitchen and ran around the house, hoping that nobody would recognise her. The rain soaked her in seconds and she tried not to slip in the mud that was already ruining the bottom of her dress. 

Mr Lenz was tying up his horse when Ymir reached him. She called out but he did not respond. When she got closer, she saw that he looked exhausted. 

“Mr Lenz? Are you alright?” Ymir asked him. 

He turned to her groggily, his eyes half closed. She came closer and rested her hand on his forehead; it was burning hot. 

“I am fine, Ymir…” He said weakly. “But Krista… you must tell her…”

“Tell her what, sir?” Ymir asked. She was scared for both Krista and the man.

“Her grandmother…”

“What about her?”

“Tell Krista… that her grandmother is dead… before she… ”

“Mrs Lenz is dead?” Ymir said incredulously. “But… you mean you saw her? What happened? And tell Krista before she what?”

But Mr Lenz had fainted then from exhaustion. Ymir had no idea what she should do, and began to panic. Mrs Lenz was dead? Ymir did not know if this made her feel sad or happy; all she was feeling was scared as she called for help. She dragged him back into the house, her heart pounding. 

A flock of maids ran to them. Miss Peters was there; Ymir asked if she had seen Krista. 

“I think she is in a room upstairs with Mr Hoover. Rumours are already flying that he is proposing!” Miss Peters whispered. “But we must really tend to Mr Lenz. Whatever was he doing out there?”

“Proposing?” Was all Ymir said before she was running back up the stairs to try and find Krista before it was too late. 

She did not care about Bertholdt seeing her any more. She had to save the girl she loved from an unwanted marriage, because she knew Krista would refuse to do it herself. 

________

“This was not my initial plan,” Bertholdt said as he stood alone with Krista. “I had not anticipated this rain.”

“Plan for what?” Krista asked. Could this be? 

Bertholdt ignored her question. “I had wanted to request a walk in the gardens, but after this began, I was forced to do it here.”

“Do what, Mr Hoover?” Krista asked, and went to open her mouth again before being cut off by Bertholdt stepping very close to her. 

“Krista…” He looked down at his feet. “I do hope it is alright if I say your name. I simply cannot keep my feelings to myself any longer. Do you wish to know why I am not leaving tomorrow, when my dear friend does?”

“Why?” Krista whispered. 

This was it. He was proposing. Everything Krista had done was leading up to this moment. Was she to marry him?

Slowly, Bertholdt bent down onto one knee and looked up at her. Krista had never been filled with such panic in her life. This was the moment. This was the choice she had to make. She did not know what to do.

“Krista, I am sure my feelings have been obvious. You enchanted me from the very day I met you. Would you do me the honour of allowing me to marry you?”

For a single second, there was silence; even the crashing of the rain subsided to a dull patter. Krista felt overwhelmed. 

“Mr Hoover, I…”

Krista did not have time to make her decision before there was a loud crack as the locked door was kicked down. Ymir stood in the doorway, panting heavily and dripping with rain. Her eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit room and she walked quickly towards Krista. She offered no explanation for her arrival. 

“Krista! I am so terribly sorry, your grandmother-” Ymir began to speak but was cut off by Mr Hoover, who stepped forward from behind them, cutting the space between Krista and Ymir.

“What on earth are you doing here?” His voice was filled with shock. Silence fell upon the room. “Ymir?”


	20. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So this is chapter twenty! I can't believe that this has gotten so long! It's really awesome to know that I've committed so long to something, because I usually give up. That's because of all of your amazing reviews! Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that the word used around this period for lesbian is 'tribade' so when I write that just remember! I was worried it would be confusing. Anyway, thanks for reading, and here is chapter twenty!

Krista was so shocked that she stood with her mouth open, speechless. 

“You - you know him?” She stuttered eventually. Ymir ignored Krista and strode over to her quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking her in the eyes. The girl looked smaller and more scared than ever. Had she been too late? Had Krista said yes?

“Krista,” she said, steeling herself for Krista’s reaction. “I truly do not know how to tell you this, but… your grandmother has died.”

“No,” Krista whispered, the shock evident on her face. “That cannot be true, it canno-”

“I am sorry, Krista, but it is. Your father rode here as fast as he could to tell you, but he fainted from exhaustion and asked me to tell you instead.”

The look on Krista’s face sent a wave of sadness through Ymir’s chest. Utter disbelief was her first reaction, and she shook her head no; then when realising Ymir was serious, her lip started to tremble and she began to cry. Tears spilled from Krista’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks; Ymir reached out for her hand, forgetting that Bertholdt was in the room. All Ymir wanted was to hold her while she cried and dry her tears, but she could not. 

Ymir had never seen such utter desperation before; her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at the girl she was sure that she loved. Krista was small and fragile, and Ymir was not sure that she could take the blow that her grandmother’s untimely death had delivered. 

“It is all my fault again,” Krista whispered.

“No! Do not say that, Krista. It was not your fault at all. Please do not believe-” Ymir started, but she was interrupted as Krista tore herself from Ymir’s grip. She ran from the room in a flood of tears. 

“Krista! Do not do this! Come back!” Ymir shouted and went to run after her, but Bertholdt grabbed her arm. 

“Ymir, wait.” He looked at her intensely. “I need some form of explanation. What are you doing here? You - you look so different!”

“It is not obvious? I am working here.”

“Do not tell me you have done this again. Please give me a good explanation.”

“It is none of your business! Let me go after her!”

“I do not trust you to.”

“That is ridiculous! She is my friend!”

“That is what you said last time!”

“Do not bring her into this.” Furious, Ymir broke herself away from Bertholdt’s grip and stepped back from him. “This has nothing to do with Nanaba!” 

She glared at him and ran from the room to find Krista. 

*****

Everything appeared normal in the ballroom. The music continued to play, and the guests were not yet aware of Mr Lenz’s situation. Every person was in high spirits excepting Reiner and Annie, who stood quietly together. 

“It has been too long.” Annie murmured. “They should be back by now.”

“Annie, you are worrying too much. I am sure it has gone well.”

She scoffed and glared at the floor. 

“Annie, do not tell me… you do not have ill wishes for their engagement?”

“Not particularly.” Annie answered non-committally.

“You do not have feelings for Bertholdt?!” Reiner gasped.

Annie did not answer. 

“Why did you not tell him before? You must have seen that you enchanted him for our entire childhood! He was smitten!” 

“I did not feel this way then.”

“So it is true! I cannot believe it!” Reiner looked at her and laughed. “My dear cousin, you really do not like to make things easy, do you?”

“Well there is no point now. I just have to have hope that she rejects him.”

Reiner laughed again. “You always were cold-hearted. But know that I would be happy if you were engaged, as much as I adore Miss Lenz.”

Annie gave a small smile and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Seconds later, they saw Bertholdt enter the ballroom again, but the expression on his face was dire. 

“Lord, what do you think happened?” Reiner said, concerned. 

Annie and Reiner ran to him and asked what was troubling him.

“It’s Ymir. She is here, and Krista has just found out that her grandmother has died. She’s fled the estate. Come quickly. I want to talk to you both in private.”

“Ymir? She’s here?” Annie asked. Did this mean that she had said no?

Jean was listening to them from a few meters behind, and watched as the trio made their way out of the ballroom. Stealthily, he followed them. Who was this Ymir? And why had Krista run away? They entered the first room they could find that was empty; Jean listened at the door. 

“Do explain, Bertholdt! What is Ymir, of all people, doing here? And did you propose?” Jean heard Annie’s voice say. 

“She is working here, as a maid, I presume, and I worry that she has gotten close to Krista.”

“You do not suggest…?”

“That history has repeated itself? Yes, Miss Leonhart, I have every reason to believe that Ymir has tried to involve herself with Krista, as she did with Nanaba last year. Though I have no reason to believe that Krista has reciprocated her feelings.”

Jean gasped from outside the door. What on earth? All he could conclude was that there was a maid working within Krista’s estate that was a tribade, and she was trying to seduce the young girl with her unholy desires. It was foul! He knew not what to do, but realised that their conversation was coming to an end, so he slipped away. 

“I have to go and find Krista. I am worrying greatly for her; she has run away, and I fear that she has gone out into the storm. Ymir ran after her, but I want to try to find her too, so I can explain this awful situation to her. Ymir does not mean harm, but I cannot let her presence be known.”

“Of course. Did Krista answer you?” Reiner asked.

“No,” Bertholdt laughed sadly. “I had feared that she would not want to, however, and she did not look particularly pleased when I asked. I will try to answer her again in the coming days, but I suspect that my answer will be a negative one.”

Annie tried to conceal her smile at this news, and looked calm as she, Bertholdt, and Reiner made their way out of the room. 

*****

The storm, by the time Ymir had left the estate on her horse, had taken over the entire sky; the clouds were a deathly black, and left no space for blue to prevail. The wind was harsh and strong and it cast the relentless rain to fall at every angle. It bent the forest of trees surrounding the estate, causing their wooden bones to creak and moan. It was not easy to ride in rain that was cast directly into one’s face, but Ymir prevailed; constantly pressing Surtur to go faster, she hoped she would find Krista soon. She was soaked through and shaking; whether due to the cold or her rush of adrenaline, she did not know. 

After about twenty minutes of searching in many different directions, she eventually led Surtur down a small clearing with a dirt path, lined by giant trees. She hoped desperately to herself that Krista would be down here; if she was not, Ymir did not know what she would do. Panic rose in her chest and gripped her with its icy hand, squeezing hard with every crack of thunder and flash of lightning.

“Krista!” She shouted as loudly as she could, her voice breaking with fear. Ymir hoped that Krista could hear her, but feared that her voice would be constantly drowned out by the howling wind. The thought of Krista being out here alone sent a shooting pain through her heart; she simply hoped that the girl was alright, though she knew it was not true. 

The cold pinched at her skin, but with her coat, she knew that she must be feeling much less than Krista, who had left the estate in only the dress she had worn to the ball. Worry overtook her and again she wondered how she had come to care for another person so much; she felt as if she would give up anything just to make Krista happy. Her grips on the reins tightened at this thought, but she did not notice the pain as her fingernails dug into her palms. 

After following the path for several minutes she came to a clearing with a small pond that was growing steadily with the rain. 

“Krista!” She called again, her voice becoming hoarse from the shouting. She opened her mouth to shout once more when no answer came, but stopped when she saw Krista lying on the ground next to the pond. Immediately she jumped off of Surtur and ran over, calling her name over and over. Upon reaching Krista, Ymir shook her hard; the girl’s eyes were open, but red and puffy. 

“Ymir…” She said weakly, attempting to sit up. “He asked me to marry him…”

“Do not try to move, Krista. Take this, please.” Ymir took off her coat and wrapped it around Krista, trying to keep her warm. The small girl was shivering violently and she was soaking wet. The dress she wore was stained with mud and tears streamed down her face in quick succession. It hurt Ymir so much to see Krista like this; she had seen the girl in tears before, she had seen her desperate, but never had Ymir ever seen the kind of pain that was in Krista’s eyes. She could not even begin to imagine how much it must have hurt her to find out such news in the way that she did, though Ymir could not understand why she cared so much. 

“My mother’s dress,” she whispered. “It is ruined. And my grandmother…” She let out a low sob and her face contorted into grief. 

“Shhh. Do not think of that now.” Ymir gently lifted Krista into a sitting position The rain was still falling hard, and Ymir brushed away the hair that was sticking to her face. After doing the same for Krista, Ymir gave her a small smile. Krista began to cry even harder and buried her face into Ymir’s shoulder; Ymir sat upright stiffly before allowing herself to relax and hold Krista back.

“You did not have to come and find me, Ymir,” Krista said eventually, when her crying had subsided. “And I am so sorry for kissing you. If I had known that this was what it would cause, then I would never have done so-”

“No, Krista. You did not cause your grandmother’s death. None of it was your fault; you can understand that, can you not?” She paused and drew in a shaky breath before standing up. Offering out her hand to Krista, she pulled her up and they stood together in the rain. 

“Do not apologise for your actions. I have been telling you this for too long.” Ymir laughed quietly; Krista could barely hear her over the wind and rain. “Perhaps my first reaction was not the best, but I know, Krista, I know-” 

Ymir steeled herself and took in a deep breath. “Krista, I love you.”

The words sent a chill down Krista’s spine. Suddenly, it felt to her as if every single moment in her life had led up to this. Every word she had spoken, every step she had taken, had brought her here. Right now. She wiped the tears from her eyes and pushed away the feelings of inferiority and regret that threatened to overcome her. She would not let them define her. Krista was her own person now; the last tie to her old self had been severed. Krista stood and gripped her hands in her fists. She had never felt more sure of herself. The words filled her with a sensation of euphoria; it felt as if she could do anything.

Ymir, seeing this, felt every drop of worry and panic flow from her, and with the knowledge that Krista was going to be okay, she took a step closer. They were once again so close that Ymir could feel the tickle of Krista’s breathing on her neck. The fear that had been coursing through her veins just moments before was replace with something else; something strong. Krista took a deep breath in and paused before smiling at Ymir.

“I love you too, Ymir.”

Ymir could barely contain herself upon hearing these words from Krista. Without thinking she brushed the hair from Krista’s face and brought their lips together in a feverish embrace. 

The instant their kiss began, it was as if every one of Krista’s senses had heightened; the rain seemed to pour even harder as its drops fell onto them, and the wind pierced them like icy knives, but neither girls cared. All they wanted was to become closer, to kiss harder, to love each other more. And they did; Ymir snaked her hand around Krista’s waist and pulled their bodies closer, so that Krista could feel the curve of Ymir’s chest against her own, and Krista gently bit Ymir’s bottom lip, eliciting a small sigh in return. This only furthered Krista’s desire. Raindrops were dripping down each of their faces, and were ignored; nothing else mattered, nothing else felt real. Their breathing became heavier, and Ymir let out a low moan as Krista placed her hands on Ymir’s tanned cheeks and kissed her harder than ever. 

How could she have wanted anything but this? Krista could hardly believe she had been considering marrying Bertholdt when she could have this. There was nothing in the world she desired more. Her love for Ymir surged through her veins and she found herself having to tell her again. She broke away from the kiss reluctantly. Ymir gave a puzzled expression and went to ask what was wrong when Krista interrupted her.

“I am so in love with you,” she said, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“I would do anything.”

Krista laughed. “I know. But I apologise for my rather drastic action. I was in a great state of shock.”

“That is understandable.”

“Ymir?”

“Yes, Krista?”

“Please… explain to me. How do you know Mr Hoover? Were you hiding from him when I was sick and he came to visit?”

Ymir cast her eyes down to the ground. “I suppose I need to tell you now.” She said. “Since I am most likely going to be forced to run away now that I have been discovered.”

“What? Run away? I do not understand!”

“Come, we need to get back to the ball. I will tell you my story as I ride.”

Ymir took Krista’s hand. The blonde girl followed, and braced herself for the tale she was about to hear, hoping that it would not be too painful.


	21. Ymir Hoover

“You mean to say what, son?” Said the elder Mr Kirstein. “I cannot believe you. Miss Lenz would do no such thing.”

“Listen to me, father!” Jean said. The two men were stood in the corner of the ballroom, discussing what Jean had overheard. The loud music was still driving out the noise of the storm outside, and nothing appeared wrong. “I am telling you - Miss Lenz may have not been involved, but I am sure that one of her maids is, is - is a tribade!”

“And you are positive of this?”

“Yes, father.”

“Then Miss Lenz is in danger.”

Jean grit his teeth, knowing he had to help Krista. He had to do the right thing. Suddenly, he saw Reiner and Annie walking through the ballroom. Leaving his father and approaching them, Jean tried to devise a way to ask about Krista without them discovering that he had been listening in on their conversation.

“Miss Leonhart! You look beautiful tonight,” He said to Annie, bowing. “And Mr Braun.”

“Mr Kirstein.” Annie said curtly.

“You have not at all happened to see Miss Lenz, have you? I have been looking for her everywhere and cannot seem to find her.” Despite already knowing the answer to this, Jean wished to know what the pair’s responses would be to his question.

Annie cast a brief look at Reiner before replying. “I do believe that she has discovered some rather distressing news and has had to leave the ball momentarily. However, I am under the impression that she will be back soon.” She said.

“That is most unfortunate. Do you happen to know what the news was?” Jean asked.

“Yes,” Annie said, “but I am afraid it does not concern you in the slightest, so I will not grant you privy to the information.”

Jean look a small step back in shock at her rudeness. “Well,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I had never expected such language from lady!” He was glad he had listened upon their conversation, as it was clear that he would be getting no information from Miss Leonhart.

Annie ignored him and simply walked away with Reiner, leaving Jean to stand open-mouthed. Jean was angry, and he strode through the ballroom at a quick pace.

“How dare she speak to me like that?” He muttered to himself angrily. “That dowdy, wretched woman. Well, little do they know!” Through his anger, a plan was formulating in Jean’s mind. The teller boy, Mr Hoover, had gone after Krista, he had presumed. Well then he would follow Mr Hoover, if he was not too late to do so, and then he would be able to talk to Mr Hoover and Miss Lenz alone.

“Well, Annie, you simply cannot restrain yourself, can you?” Annie said to Reiner, not noticing as Jean slipped out of the ballroom.

She looked at him, smiling slyly. “I suppose not. But we have more important things to discuss than Mr Kirstein and his attitude. Do you think that Bertholdt will find Miss Lenz? I am afraid that she may be found by Ymir first.”

“He will, Annie. And she will be alright. We must pray that Bertholdt finds her quickly, so that she can return to the ball safely without anybody noticing that she was gone for too long.”

*****

The rain was not showing any sign of relenting as Krista and Ymir rode back to the ball. The clouds were dark and cold, and hovered over the two girls as their shaky silence became tense. Ymir knew not where to begin; everything almost felt as if it were too much. All of the secrets she had locked away inside of herself were about to be brought to light. Now another person would learn her story, and if it were not Krista she were to tell, Ymir knew she would be terrified; in fact, she was, but she reminded herself that Krista was the girl she loved. She let the name ring in her mind; Krista, Krista, Krista. She whispered her name, and the small girl replied, asking if she was alright, with such a caring tone in her voice that Ymir wanted to cry. But she shut those feelings out, and took a deep breath, and began to tell her story.

“Krista,” she said. “I am not really sure where I should begin,”

“Just say whatever you feel is right, Ymir. I will listen.” Krista’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the rain easily.

Ymir thanked her, taking in another shaky breath. “I was once in a very similar position to the one you are in now.” She said, and waited for Krista to say something, but she was silent, and allowed Ymir to talk freely. Krista did not want to interrupt; she could tell that Ymir was scared. Krista, too, was nervous. She had no idea what to expect, but she just wanted answers.

“I was once rich, like you. I lived in the north of the country, with my family. We had a relatively large estate. Like yours, my family was -” She paused for a moment. “No, I should just tell you bluntly. Krista,” Ymir whispered, hands gripped tight on the reigns and eyes staring forward, not daring to look back at the girl.

“My name is Ymir Hoover.” She could not bring herself to look at Krista, but heard her shaky gasp of breath through the hard pattering of rain.

Krista knew what this meant. Ymir was related to Bertholdt, and she had run away from her home. So that was the reason why Ymir had hidden from Bertholdt all of those times. But why? Why had she left? Questions burned inside of her but Krista remained patient and allowed Ymir to tell her story. She simply took her hands from the saddle and wrapped them around Ymir’s front, holding her tightly.

“He is my cousin.” She said softly. “I am sorry I did not tell you sooner.”

A few moment of silence passed before Ymir resumed her story. They were making their way out of the pass Ymir had found and out to the field above. Night had taken over, and there was barely any light to see by; Ymir trusted that Surtur would lead them in the right direction. Krista’s arms around her made Ymir feel safe, and she wished she could feel too the comfort of the moon and stars above. But there were only the clouds, which moved quickly with the turbulence of strong wind. Ymir focused on the feeling of Krista, whose head was now resting upon her shoulder. Would she be alright? Or would Krista hate her now, for lying and deceiving to her for so long? The thoughts threatened to scare her from confessing her secrets, but she pushed them from her mind, and spoke again.

“I spent my whole childhood with Reiner and Bertholdt. The three of us were inseparable; we played together, we laughed together, we learned together. When I was younger I was so naive,” she laughed sadly, “and I thought I could live like that forever. But as I grew older I learned the pains that came with being a female. I was no longer allowed to see my cousin or friend when I wanted to; I had to learn to draw and play the piano, and then, when I was fifteen, came the talk of marriage.

“There was a man, my mother told me, who had come to town; his name was Mike Zacharius, and she was going to arrange our marriage. He was almost ten years my elder, and I was repulsed by him. I refused to marry him, and my mother was outraged. She did not know that by this time another held my affections; in fact, nobody did.”

“You fell in love?” Krista said quietly, interrupting for the first time. “With whom?”

“She was from the local town,” Ymir said, bowing her head, “though I would go as far to suggest that we loved each other. Her name was Nanaba, and I would sneak from my home to see her in the dead of night. I never even told Bertholdt or Reiner. She was slightly older than I, and she almost persuaded me to run away with her, but I did not feel as if I could leave my dear cousin; I would miss him and Reiner too much. So I stayed, and my mother and I grew farther and farther apart. She truly did hate me by the time Zacharius proposed and I refused. I was an embarrassment, a failure.”

Krista’s eyes filled with tears at these words. So Ymir had known, all along, how she had felt; she had been through almost the exact situation. It was all too fitting, and if Krista did not trust Ymir more than anyone then she doubted she would have believed her.

“My mother’s next step was to force me to spend my life with the church. I was content with this, for the most part, as long as I got to see Nanaba. But then,” Ymir’s voice cracked as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Krista wanted nothing more than to make her feel better. “One night, Nanaba came to my home in the middle of the night, and told me that she was going to run away. She wanted me to come with her, but I would not go. I begged her to stay with me and join the church too, but she insisted upon leaving. We spent hours together that night. I told her that I was going to miss her dearly. And then as the sun rose from over the horizon, she kissed me and left.

“I was devastated, but I had but five minutes alone before my mother strode outside from the house and grabbed me by the arm. One of the maids had seen Nanaba and I and told my mother. She shouted and then she told my father. When he hit me I knew that nothing, not even my friends, was worth staying for a second longer. The next morning I broke out of the room my mother had locked me in, took Surtur, and fled.

“I spent weeks looking for Nanaba, but she was nowhere to be found. I was devastated and miserable. I-I even stole from the church to live. I hated myself and I hated everyone else too - especially my parents. I almost starved, but I managed to keep Surtur fed. I would travel from town to town, trying to find work. I decided that I had given up on ever seeing Nanaba again, and decided that I would leave for America, where I could be who I wanted without fear. That was when I applied for the position here, as maid; I had already travelled over two hundred miles south looking for a job that did not involve selling myself to men for money. I never thought I would be accepted, but I was, and that was when I met you. I later found out that my family had told everybody that I had died in a horseriding accident.”

Ymir fell silent then, breathing fast and heavily, trying to stop herself from crying. It was over; Krista knew it all. She braced herself, waiting for Krista to cry, to get angry at her for lying.

The flame of a forgotten memory ignited in Krista’s mind. “Bertholdt told me that he had a cousin whom died in a horseriding accident on the first day I visited Trost,” she said. It was all she knew to say; Krista felt as if no words of comfort she could say would do justice to Ymir. She held her tighter.

Ymir was shocked by her response. Who was this girl? Ymir had thought that Krista was weak before, but her views were changing; surely, she thought, it would be harder than anything to stick by someone, no matter what? It was what Krista had done for Ymir, despite her lies, her irrationality, her anger. She pulled Surtur to a stop.

The rain had not stopped, but a gap in the clouds had formed; through it shone the moon, and as Ymir turned to look at Krista, she saw the way the dim, white light illuminated the droplets of rain on her cheeks, making them shine. Krista’s hair was wet and clung to her face, and Ymir pushed it back so she could see the girl fully. She was just as beautiful, Ymir thought, than when the ball was beginning, just hours ago. It felt like days had passed. Krista gave her a watery smile.

“What is troubling you, Ymir?” She asked.

“Nothing, Krista,” Ymir said, stroking Krista’s cheek with her thumb. “I just am having troubling believing that you are not angry with me for lying for so long. You smiled, and you were kind to me, even though you know what kind of person I am.”

Krista let out a weak laugh. Ymir saw how warm and genuine her eyes were, despite the cold outside. “Of course I was. No matter what, Ymir, I will never leave your side.”

Ymir felt a warmness spread through her, and she turned back to the reigns. A large hill approached them. Suddenly, a crash of lightning came down and illuminated everything in their vicinity; in the distance, Ymir could briefly make out a figure standing at the top of the hill. Seconds later the thunder rolled in, deafening the girls’ ears to the shout of the stranger.

Ymir pushed Surtur to ride faster through the rain, and eventually they were able to see that the figure was Bertholdt. He, too, was soaked through by the rain, but could not look more relieved to Krista safe and smiling. He jumped quickly from Brimir and ran to them.

“Krista!” He shouted as he ran. “Are you alright?”

“I am quite fine,” she smiled.

“I was so worried about you!” He began to gush, and there was a genuine smile on his face. Ymir watched from Surtur, then suddenly Brimir noticed her and trotted over. She stroked his long face and smiled, before looking up to see Bertholdt staring intensely at her.

“Ymir.” He said with a steely voice.

“Bertholdt,” Ymir said, her voice softer than his, “please, I am begging you, do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I had never believed you one to beg, Ymir,” Bertholdt said, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“Trust me, I am not; but this situation extends to more than myself,” Ymir gestured towards Krista.

“I am aware, and I can assure you that she is the is the only reason why I am not going to inform anybody of what has been going on here.”

“Thank you,” Ymir said, relief flowing through her.

Shrouded by the darkness, Jean watched as they talked. He squinted his eyes. Who was that other figure? He could not make out the words they were saying, so he edged closer, making sure to remain out of sight. He heard a few words pierce through the noise of the rain. Most notably, Ymir. So that figure was the tribade? He felt himself becoming angry at the very thought of it. He needed to inform the people at the ball what was going on! When they returned, he would catch them red-handed. Quickly he turned and ran as quickly as he could back towards the ball while the trio were still talking.

*****

Krista, Bertholdt and Ymir made their way back to the ball. Led by Bertholdt, who remembered the way he had come, their journey was slower than before. There was an icy silence between the cousins that Krista could not understand. Had they not been the best of friends? Even if Ymir had left, she thought that Bertholdt was at least courteous enough to treat her with kindness, but even Ymir seemed to acquiesce to his way of speaking to her.

When the estate came into view, there was an eerie silence. Something felt very, very wrong to Krista, though she could not place where her discontent was coming from. They made their way around to the back entrance, so the three could get in and change without being noticed, but as they turned the corner to where the maids’ entrance was situated, a large gathering of people waited.

At the front of them stood Jean.

“You see!” He shouted to them all behind him, and a mutter of agreement rippled through them. Annie and Reiner stood at the edge of the crowd, completely dumbfounded.

“What is happening here?” Krista asked, trying to speak with authority.

“Krista, stand back.” Jean’s father strode over to the horse she sat upon and grabbed Ymir, pulling her off the horse and onto the cold, wet, hard floor. Krista gasped and jumped off too, but Jean held her arms back; she could not move.

Ymir got up off the floor slowly, and pulled back her fist to punch the elder Mr Kirstein in the face. Before she could, however, he snatched her waist and restrained her. She thrashed and kicked at him, but the large man was far stronger than her, and was able to keep her still.

Krista was beginning to panic. What was going on?

“Let me go immediately! What is happening here?!” Krista was terrified but tried to appear confident. “Mr Kirstein, let Ymir go! You are hurting her!” Her voice cracked and Krista was sure that her fear was evident in her tone.

The man was squeezing Ymir tightly; it looked as if the girl could not breathe.

“Do not worry, Krista, everything is alright.”

“It is most certainly not.” Bertholdt said, striding towards them. “Let Krista go. Now.” Bertholdt towered over Jean, and his gaze was piercing. Jean immediately released Krista from his grip.

“This maid,” Mr Kirstein said, “is a tribade. We told you this before, and now we have the proof. She is right here!”

“You have no evidence for this claim!” Bertholdt protested.

“Oh, but we do,” Jean said. “I happen to have overheard a conversation of yours where you were speaking of this very abomination.”

“How dare you listen in on us!” Shouted Reiner as he too strode towards Jean.

“You have only proved us correct,” Jean laughed as he walked to his fathers side. “Now, Ymir, do you care to deny this claim in front of every guest here?”

The crowd watched in shocked silence, but their expressions told of their thoughts; they were disgusted by the idea of a tribade working within an estate as fine as the Lenz’s. Ymir looked at Jean. “Well?” He asked. For a few seconds, she did not respond, until she gave a grin and spat directly into his face.

Jean looked at her with the utmost disgust before hitting her, hard, across the face. Ymir grunted in pain as the punch connected. Krista ran towards Jean and tried to pull him away as he pulled back his fist, ready to strike for a second time.

“Stop it!” She screamed over the rain. “Ymir has done nothing wrong!”

Jean lowered his fist and turned to Krista. He towered over her. “Oh, but she has surely gotten to you, has she not?” He spat. “I have no doubt that she has lowered you to her filthy level, Krista.”

“Do not call me filthy, and I have never given you my permission to call me Krista.” She said venomously. “Ymir has done nothing.”

“Do not lie to me!” Jean shouted. “She must be the reason you have ignored my every advance to you! It is an abomination towards the Lord! You disgust me!” He raised his fist towards her then, and Krista shrunk back.

“Jean, do not.” His father said.

Jean cast a glare at the man but relented at his request. “Krista, tell me. Has this wretch touched you? Has she dared to make an advance towards you?”

Krista had never felt more trapped in her life. The urge to say I love her was overwhelming, but it could get them seriously hurt. She did not know what she should say. Krista looked over at Ymir, who was looking at her pleading eyes and shaking her head. Ymir wanted her to say no. A trickle of blood was running from Ymir’s mouth and her dark bruising was already appearing around her left eye. No matter what she said, Ymir was going to get hurt. So would it not be better to be hurt with her? She would have to run if she said yes. But if she did not, then Ymir would run without her.

“Well?!” Jean was almost shouting in her face. Krista’s breathing was speeding up; she did not know what to do, she was scared, and her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. The eyes of the guests from the ball bore into her, making her feel worthless. They would hate her like they hated Ymir, but a life without the freckled girl was not one she felt was worth living.

Krista had promised Ymir that she would never leave her side. The choice was clear. She would say it. She would say that they were in love, and they would face the consequences together.

But as Krista opened her mouth, she was interrupted.

“I know Ymir. She already has a lover, back in her home town.” The lie slid beween his lips with ease. “She would never make an advance towards Krista.”

Krista turned to him with horror, but when her eyes passed Ymir, Krista saw that the girl was smiling. She mouthed a thank you at Bertholdt. Tears were streaming from Ymir’s eyes as she smiled at Krista. Jean looked at Krista intensely.

“So you have done nothing wrong, Krista?” Jean said to her. His voice was less harsh than before. “I want to hear you say the words.”

Krista looked at Ymir, and then at Bertholdt. Their eyes pleaded with her. It took every fibre in Krista’s being to say the word that came next.

“No.”

For a second, Mr Kirstein’s grip on Ymir loosened and Ymir was able to blindly kick him between the legs. As he doubled over, Ymir kicked him again and ran, grabbing Surtur. Krista sank to her knees. She jumped on top of the horse and looked back once at Krista, with longing in her eyes, before she faced forwards again and rode away into the darkness of the stormy night, never to return.


	22. When She Left

The next week passed in a blur of grey and sadness. With her, Ymir had taken every ounce of happiness that Krista had possessed. She had spoken with her father, who had recovered quickly. He had been furious when he had learned of Jean’s accusations; however, Krista did not tell him that he had threatened her with his fist. Her father was devastated that Ymir had left. 

“But were his accusations true, Krista?” He had asked, though his question was unnecessary; Mr Lenz could tell by simply looking into Krista’s dull and lifeless eyes that Jean had been correct.

Krista had responded by collapsing into tears onto the carpet, and it was then that her father was sure that she and the maid had fallen in love. Everything he had been taught told him that what his daughter was was wrong, but when he looked at Krista, his love for her only increased. He had known how wonderful love could be; his wife had taught him that, and if Krista felt the same way, then he would do nothing to stop her. Mr Lenz wanted to be nothing like his mother. 

Jean sent his apologies to Krista, who pretended to accept them; in truth, she cared not for what the man had to say. Letters had come to her from Bertholdt and Annie; they had stayed in town while Reiner left again with the military. She had not read them; Krista wanted to see nobody. 

Even nature seemed dull to her now; the once-vibrant colours of the gardens seemed grey and washed-out, like they had been rinsed of all their beauty and left to hang limply. The sun was obscured by clouds most days, and provided a summer warmth that was quickly whisked away by the harsh winds that blew almost constantly. 

The sun rose, much to Krista’s dismay, every morning; despite the fact that her dreams were played with visions of being alone, sleep provided a comfort that consciousness could not. The halls and rooms of her estate seemed to lonely now that Krista knew she would not see the smiling face of Ymir peer around a corner to greet her. One week after Ymir had left, Krista woke as she had done for the past seven days; unwillingly. After laying in silence, staring at the ceiling for an amount of time she did not wish to know the length of, Krista eventually crawled out from under the sheets and walked to her window.

There it all was: the forest of trees she had hidden in, on the night that felt like months ago; the stables, where Ymir had led the carriage from dozens of times; and the path leading to the town, where Krista had walked with Sasha on a weekly basis. Krista missed Sasha with all of her heart, and prayed that she would eventually be able to see her again. But for now, Krista dressed quickly and walked downstairs to her waiting breakfast, which she knew she would not eat a bite of. 

Krista was quickly losing weight; she saw that when she went to bathe and her eyes passed over the body in the mirror. A girl stared at her from the other side of the glass, blinking when she blinked. Krista could hardly recognise her anymore. She was thin and gaunt - the outline of her ribs poked out, clearly visible, and her eyes were ringed with dark circles. Krista longed to feel something. Even the harsh words of her grandmother would be welcome to her ears; at least they made her feel something than this painful numbness. But she, too, was gone, and would never come back. She washed alone, then dressed alone, then sat in her drawing room alone.

The piano beckoned to her, as it had been for the last week. Krista looked at it, her heart numb, and then went and sat at the stool. She lifted the cover and the keys watched her from their rows, asking her silently to play them. Krista rested her fingers on top of them, sighing deeply. She wanted nothing more than to hear Ymir’s voice coming from the doorway, but there was only silence. 

“Aren’t you going to play something?” In Krista’s mind, it was almost as if Ymir was there. If she focused hard enough, Krista could imagine her hands over Ymir’s as she guided them to play in a strikingly vivid manner, but as soon as Krista’s eyes fluttered open, they were gone. 

After almost half an hour, Krista gave up on the piano, and went back to her bedroom, where she slept for most of the afternoon. Sometime during her sleep, her father came to see her, and waited by her bedside for her to wake up. 

A few hours passed and Krista awoke again to the sight of her father standing over her. She offered him a weak and sleepy smile. 

“Is this how you felt, father?” Krista mumbled from under the sheets.

The man sat down on the side of her bed then. His hand gently stroked his daughter’s face, brushing the hair out of her tired eyes. “I can promise you that the pain will ease, Krista,” he said, smiling down at her. 

“When?” She asked; her voice was cracking and shaky with the threat of tears. “When will it ease, father?”

He sighed and looked down at her sadly. “I cannot promise that it will be soon, dear, but I can promise that it will. Even if it does not feel like it.”

A small tear escaped Krista’s eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. “I wish I could have known her better, father,” she said. 

“As do I, Krista,” he said, and even though they were speaking of different people, their words somehow meant everything.

*****

Another few days passed with the same monotony; Krista barely noticed the hours passing. Just after midday on a foggy, grey, Tuesday, a maid came to inform Krista that she had a visitor. She had been sat at the piano again, and when she turned around Krista saw a rain-soaked Bertholdt standing in the doorway.

“Miss Lenz,” he said, striding quickly over to her and grasping her hands in his as she stood to greet him. The man was slightly taken aback by the informality of her clothing; even in the afternoon, she still wore her nightgown, but Krista looked too tired to even notice.

“Mr Hoover…” Krista replied, her voice quiet and unsure. “What are you-”

“I am sorry to visit without notice, but you have not responded to my letters. I have been so worried… once the thought that you were angry with me had manifested in my mind, I could not distract myself from it. I must know if we are no longer friends, Miss Lenz.”

Krista stared at her feet. “I do not wish to be displeased by your behaviour… but if you had not spoken, then I would surely be with Ymir now.”

Bertholdt let go of her hands and raised his hand to his forehead, turning away in indignation. “I knew that you would have been. But I cannot understand how your affections could have been so strong for her over the course of a few months! You have almost known me for the same amount of time!”

“Over the course of those months she became my closest and most dear friend, Bertholdt.” The man looked shocked at Krista’s use of his first name. “I came to depend upon her kind words, her honest but blunt disposition; I have truly never loved someone like her. She…” Krista smiled wistfully at the thought, “she was so kind to me.”

Bertholdt saw the way Krista’s eyes shone as she thought of his cousin. “Then I suppose asking you to marry me again would prove a fruitless ordeal?” 

Krista was taken aback by his bluntness, but nodded at him, a sad smile on her face. Bertholdt smiled back and took her hand again; gently, he lay a small kiss upon it. He looked at her again with watery eyes and opened his mouth to speak.

“I will stay for two weeks more,” he said, “and then I will leave. I believe I have overstayed my welcome in this town, Krista. It has been a pleasure to know you.”

“But surely this will not be the last time we will speak!” Krista cried, and took a step forward towards him. 

“But do you not wish it to be so?” He asked, looking upon her with a puzzled expression. 

“Of course not.” She said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, stay here for a while. I enjoy your company.” He was shocked, but Bertholdt agreed not to leave. They sat together in the large chair in the drawing room for a while, and began to talk.

For the first time, Krista felt completely at ease in his company; there were no expectations, and Krista could finally act as she wanted to. A few times, she caught herself worrying about what her grandmother might say, but calmed herself as she remembered that she would never have to worry about her grandmother again; she was gone forever. 

“Did Ymir still keep a diary?” Bertholdt asked after a few moments of peaceful silence.

Krista turned her head to look at him quickly. “She kept a diary?” 

“Yes!” Bertholdt laughed. “She would always be writing in them; after she was prohibited from playing sport with us, Ymir would spend most of her time writing in those books.” His eyes were glassy with reminiscence, and a smile played on his lips. “I suppose she will have to buy a new one, now.” He said, a strain of worry audible, if barely, in his voice. 

Another moment passed in silence. This time, it was broken by Krista. “Why did you lie for me?” She asked quietly. “That night, I thought surely we would have to run away together. But you lied so I could stay. Why?”

“Because we Hoovers are selfish,” Bertholdt said, “although I refuse to admit it much less freely than my cousin Ymir. I did not want to see you leave.”

“But you are going yourself!” Krista said.

“I still clung to the hope that you really did wish to marry me. But I understand now; Annie has told me all that she knows about the situation.” He paused. “Was it really all lies?” 

Krista looked up at him. “No, of course it was not. If it were, would I be sitting here with you now?” 

He laughed. “I suppose not,” he said, and reached out to stroke her cheek with his thumb. Krista shivered under his touch; it reminded her of Ymir, as she would touch her in the same way. “I simply wish things could have turned out differently for us.”

“Bertholdt,” Krista said quietly. “Do not become carried away. It has to be like this.”

He took his hand away and placed it in his lap. “I know,” he said, defeated. “I think that perhaps I should leave, now. I just thought that perhaps you really did feel the same way.”

Krista could not look him in the eye. “I am sorry, Bertholdt.”

They stood; Krista walked him to the door, and watched him ride away into the distance without another word. 

*****

The funeral of Elizabeth Lenz was approaching quickly; Krista simply wanted it to pass and be over. She was dreading the false smiles and comments of sympathy; nobody had enjoyed her grandmother’s company, and Krista knew that. So when their words came, Krista knew they would be lies. Bertholdt did not visit again, nor did he write; Krista knew that he would be at the funeral, however. 

It was only on the day before the funeral that Krista chose what dress she would wear; it was simple and black. Her father looked just as tired as she, for he had been the one to arrange the affair; despite the fact that he loathed his mother with every fibre in his being, she needed a funeral. 

“Father…” Krista said to him over tea that evening. 

“Yes, Krista?” He asked, his fatigue evident in his voice. 

“I cannot help but feel like my grandmother really did hate me. And I feel as if despite everything, she was right, and everything really was all my fault.”

Her father looked at his tiny, thin daughter with guilt. “Krista,” he said, “I must apologise for not telling you sooner, but all fault lies with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was not there to support you through anything, Krista. If there was one thing your grandmother was right about it was the fact that I am a failure as a father. Through my bereavement I became blind to the fact that you really are every part as wonderful as your mother.”

“But that does not change the fact that I could never be enough for her.”

“Nobody ever could be, Krista. She was the problem, not you.”

“She never forgave me, did she?”

“I think that… in her final moments, she was going to say something to me. But I did not give her the chance to.”

“Why not?” Krista looked at him with confusion.

He cast his eyes to the floor. “I was too consumed by rage.”

“Rage?” 

“Yes. I-I am not sorry for it, but I am sorry for not telling you sooner.” He paused, and resumed quietly, his voice quivering. “I was the reason she died when she did, Krista.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I found out what she had been doing to you. I found out that she had been pressuring and manipulating you and I was so, so angry. I felt like a failure to you and I had to go and defend you before it was too late.”

Realisation slowly clicked into place. “And your anger… it was the final blow to her health?”

“The shock of it was enough to kill her.”

Krista was silent for a few moments. Despite everything, she had truly not wanted her grandmother to die. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If her grandmother had not died at the very moment that she did, then she would probably have accepted Bertholdt’s offer of proposal. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Thank you?” He asked incredulously. 

“Yes,” she smiled. “For you gave me more moments with Ymir, and saved me from a life where I would be married to someone I did not love.”

Krista’s father watched her hair fall over her face as she stood from her seat and walked over to him. He outstretched his arms, and they stood together in the middle of the dining room, with tears falling from both of their eyes, and loss in their hearts.


	23. The Funee

The morning of the funeral was as dreary as the two weeks that had predecessed it. Krista had been awoken from her broken slumber by a haunting nightmare. Her dreams were often plagued by the image of Ymir riding away from her and never coming back, and even though Krista knew that Ymir did not leave because she wanted to, the dreams still affected her. 

Her father tried to force her to eat, but Krista was too filled with worry to have breakfast; instead, she wandered away aimlessly, not realising that she was in the maids’ quarters until she looked up and saw that she was stood at Ymir’s door. 

Krista wondered if it would be locked. Most of the maids were in the kitchen, and there was nobody around. She turned the doorknob, and the door slowly creaked open.

There it all was, untouched: the lone painting still hung, displaying the colours of the setting sun; books still dominated every surface they touched, piled upon each other in great leaning stacks; and Ymir’s bed was hastily made, just like it had been the last time Krista had visited. The room still carried the sweet scent of Ymir’s hair, too; it brought tears to Krista’s eyes. 

Still in her nightclothes, Krista crawled between Ymir’s sheets, cradling the blankets in her hands. She felt overwhelmed to lie where Ymir had every night for months; why had she not done this before? It was so comforting to feel enveloped in Ymir’s space. She buried herself deeper under the blankets until she felt a hardness under the pillow. Krista reached underneath the pillow and pulled out a small, leather bound journal. The front had no markings. Krista was sceptical as to whether she should open it; this was certainly the diary that Bertholdt had spoken of. But… could it contain clues as to where Ymir was?

Curiosity overtook her and Krista cautiously sat up and turned the cover of the journal. She was met with Ymir’s messy handwriting. 

'The Lenz estate is larger than I expected it to be. I am overjoyed that Mr Lenz’s mother does not stay here; she seems like a very abhorrent woman. I feel sorry for the young girl. She seemed very frail. 

I was pleased to discover that I have my own room to sleep in. It is quiet here; I was so used to the shouts of drunken men as I slept that I have forgotten how much I love the silence of solitude. 

I think that I will try and talk to the girl tomorrow; I overheard that she plays the piano and I am intrigued.'

A few stray doodles of spring flowers lined the margin of the page. Krista traced them, smiling, with her finger, as if reaching out to touch the things Ymir had drawn would be like touching the girl herself. Krista flicked through the pages, skimming their words, until she stopped on a page completely covered by a drawing. 

Krista immediately recognised it as her drawing room. She was sat at the piano, facing away. Drawings of flowers stemmed from the floor: the carpet was gone, replaced by tall grass; ivy twisted around the legs of the piano and her stool; her hair was dotted with tiny daisies and the walls were lined with sunflowers. The room had become a garden and it appeared as if Krista was the source of light from which the flowers grew. 

Krista had not realised she had been holding her breath until it came out in one long, shaky gasp; her heart was beating quickly in her chest and her hands had begun to shake. Why had Ymir drawn her like this? She turned the page quickly and saw Ymir’s handwriting again. 

'I am sure that she fails to see how wonderfully bright she is. I am not certain how she maintains such a level of optimism when faced with the hardships that caused me to run from my home. She is so dear to me, yet I cannot understand her; Krista is a simple mystery. When I have enough money to make the journey to America, I wish for her to come with me. But I know that she would never.' 

Krista was beyond shocked. So Ymir really had wanted to be with her? Her heart ached with the loss of the person she loved more dearly than anything. Krista wanted nothing more than to be with Ymir again, to see her again. Although she knew she could never leave, Krista searched through the diary frantically for clues as to where she could be. Eventually she found what she was looking for. 

'A boat will be leaving this August to America from Liverpool. I think that shall have to be the one that I take. How daunting a prospect! Though I am not greatly afraid, I will regret to leave Krista behind. I think I am growing too attached to her.'

August? Krista whispered the name aloud. It was only a month away. Suddenly, she was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

“Krista?” It was her father. “I had thought that you might be here.”

“Father!” Krista immediately jumped from Ymir’s bed and slammed the journal shut. “I, um, it is nothing!”

He laughed. “It is perfectly alright for you to be in here, Krista. I did exactly the same after I lost your mother.”

Krista could feel the heat rising in her cheeks; she was terribly embarrassed. “I was just-”

“I saw. Tell me, what do you mean by August?”

Krista paused. “Ymir wrote in her, um, diary,” she mumbled, “that she would be leaving for America on a boat in August.”

Mr Lenz saw no point in being tactful. “You wish to go and find her.”

Krista was suddenly aware that he was right. “But father,” she whispered. “I just cannot, I-”

“Krista, I think that it is about time that your started living with your own volition.” He sighed. “I am tired of holding you back. You should go.” 

“But that is preposterous! I cannot just leave you! If I go, I won’t be able to come back!”

“And I cannot stand to see you turn into me! You have the means to find your love!” His voice suddenly became soft. “Do you understand how I feel? None of what Mr Kirstein said is right; love is never disgusting, it is never impure. And if you wish to be happy, my girl, and I certainly wish for you to be, then you must never let your love go. You saw what giving up and settling down did to your grandmother, and you saw how happy love made your dear friend Miss Blouse. I beg you to be happy, for I do not wish to idly watch as you let yourself become as depressed as I have been all these years.”

Krista felt the tears rolling down her face before she even realised she was crying. “I do; I want to go after her, father. I am so sorry.”

He embraced her. “You have my every blessing.”

*****

The clouds had not broken by the time the funeral had begun. Krista was filled with anxiety as she sat next to her father in the front pew. Her grandmother was right there; at the front of the church she lay in a wooden coffin, covered with tansy and rosemary. Krista could not bring herself to look at her grandmother. Instead, she stared at the floor, waiting for Jean to come in and begin the ceremony. 

Not many people had arrived for the service; barely a dozen mourners sat scattered in the pews, avoiding eye contact with each other. Krista and Mr Lenz were the only family the old woman had had. After several painfully silent minutes, Jean entered the room, and the service began. Seeing him for only the second time since he had raised his fist to her terrified her, and Krista wished that the service would pass quickly. 

For around twenty minutes Jean spoke of Mrs Lenz and her ‘unique’ personality, her wonderful home, and her family. Krista cringed as he spoke her name. They stood to sing hymns, and before the coffin was nailed shut, they said a final prayer. It felt almost odd for Krista to finally accept that her grandmother was gone, but it was a relief too. As they were about to close the coffin, Krista and her father were allowed to pay their final respects to the woman’s corpse. 

Krista stood, painfully aware of the eyes boring into her back. Walking to the coffin, she could not help the tears that spilled from her eyes. As she stood over the woman, Krista closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again to look at her.

“Grandmother,” she whispered, quietly enough so that nobody else would hear her. “I wish I could tell you that I trust that you still care for me, but I simply cannot.” It took all of her courage to say those words. Krista could not help but feel sad; after all, her grandmother was the one who had raised her. She had taught her to read, to write. When her father locked himself away for days on end her grandmother would be there, and even if she was not the most delicate of women, she had provided company. And now she was gone, but Krista had gained back the love of her father. She stood there for several more moments and then went back to her father, who did not move to pay his own respects. 

Would her father really allow her to go and find Ymir, and leave for America? The concept had seemed ridiculous at first - but if her father truly desired Krista to hang on to her love, then she would. She could surely still write to her father from America, but if she left Ymir go, Krista doubted that she would ever hear from her again. Just the thought of that prospect brought her to the brink of tears.

Krista was relieved when she saw the lid of the coffin firmly nailed on. It was then carried outside into the drizzling rain and lowered slowly into the ground. With each mound of earth that fell onto her grandmother’s grave, Krista felt more at peace. Her nervousness began to subside and she became distracted; thoughts of seeing Ymir again invaded her mind. She looked up at met Annie’s eye; the woman looked puzzled at her expression.

After the burial, Krista’s fellow mourners came to her to pay their respects, and just had she had expected, their hollow empathy was easily seen through. After they had finished reciting their lies, Annie approached Krista.

“Miss Lenz,” she curtseyed.

“Miss Leonhart,” Krista replied. “I hope you are faring well?”

“May I inquire as to why you have not been responding to my letters?” Annie did not deliberate. The congregation was making their way back to the Lenz estate. Krista ’s father was busy talking to a man he had not seen in months.

“Did Bertholdt not explain my words to you?” She asked.

“Yes, he did; however, I wish to hear your explanation for myself.” Annie narrowed her eyes at Krista.

“Well, I think it is clear that I have been in a period of mourning.”

“Of whom? Your grandmother, or your dear friend?” 

Krista took a deep breath and balled her fists; her nails began to dig into her palms as she tried to control the anxiety manifesting in the pit of her stomach. “You are not entitled to that answer, Miss Leonhart.”

Annie laughed. “I already know the answer, do not fret. Your grandmother was never deserving of your respect.” She said before stepping into a carriage with Bertholdt. Annie looked at her from the window and her icy expression turned into the first genuine smile Krista had ever seen from her.

For a few seconds Krista stood in stunned silence. Had Annie payed her a compliment? Had she really smiled at her? It was hard to tell, but it seemed as if the woman supported Krista and her feelings towards Ymir. She could hardly believe it. Hurriedly, she got into the same carriage as her father and the man he had been speaking to. She would make sure to talk to Bertholdt and Annie when they reached the Lenz estate for the traditional wake. 

*****

Krista was not used to seeing so many people in her living room, when she spent most of her time there alone; it was disgruntling, but she tried to ignore her discontent and look welcoming to the guests inside of her home. When her father was not talking to someone, she walked over to him, and asked to speak to him alone.

“Father,” she said, when she was sure they would not be overheard. “I was speaking with Miss Leonhart earlier, and she mentioned something that led me to believe that she supports my feelings towards Ymir.”

“You mean to say that you believe they would help you to find Ymir, should you tell them of your wish?”

“The timing and direction of their departure is very convenient for me, father. I do believe that if I were to ask then they would certainly consider obliging.”

“You wish for me to talk to Mr Hoover, and try and make an arrangement for you??”

Krista nodded and thanked him. They returned to the living room together. Krista’s head was buzzing with hope and excitement, but the undertones of worry and guilt still remained, buried deep.


	24. Henry Lenz

Krista stared out of her window. Her view was partially obscured by the raindrops that clung to the glass, fearful to fall to the ground below. Still the rain had not ceased - the great clouds moved quickly with the wind, yet they still continued to pour their misfortune onto the town, drenching its residents in sorrow and pessimism. On a clear day, Krista would be able to see for miles from her window, but now all she could see was rolling fog twisting through the trunks of trees, concealing the fields of summer flowers that lay ahead. 

Krista had not the courage to go downstairs, where her father was talking to Annie and Bertholdt; instead, she pressed her hand against the cold glass and tried to control her breathing. Would they say yes? Despite hoping for the best, Krista expected the worst - that the pair would be disgusted by her. She calmed herself by thinking of the lie that Bertholdt had told for her, and the smile Annie had granted her; they had to understand, even only by a little. Surely Bertholdt would be sympathetic, as he did love his cousin, even if his views had been twisted by his uncle’s wife. 

Krista turned away from the window. There, on her bed, lay a blanket she had taken from Ymir’s old room. Its scent eased her nightmares and helped her to sleep through the night; as a result, Krista looked noticeably less haggard than she had at the funeral.

“Krista!” Her father’s voice shouted from below. “Come downstairs, will you?”

Her stomach jittering with nerves, Krista walked downstairs and into the living room, where her father sat with Bertholdt and Annie. She said nothing as her father poured her tea, and when he passed it to her, Krista winced as the hot water scalded her lips.

“Is it acceptable for me to call you Krista now?” Annie asked, sipping her own tea.

“Of course,” Krista said, not meeting her eyes. This was a good start, but it did not calm the nerves bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

“Then I must ask that you call me Annie.”

“Certainly.”

“Well, Krista, your father has informed us of your situation,” Annie said. Krista looked up at her. “May I say, I am not particularly surprised.”

“You are not?” Krista said. “But-”

“I only met Ymir a few times, but I was not adversed to her. And let me be blunt - I am not a religious person. That may come as a shock, but it means I care not what you do.”

“What Annie means to say,” Bertholdt looked at Krista kindly, “is that we would be more than pleased to allow you to accompany us north.”

Krista was beyond shocked. “You- you mean you do not care that Ymir and I- that we-”

“No, we do not.” Bertholdt smiled at her, and Krista did not think she could feel any happier.

The discussion continued; it was decided that they would leave in three days time. Despite her happiness, reality for Krista was sinking in: if she were to leave, and travel to America, she would never be able to see her father again. Of course, they could send letters, but Krista found herself thinking of the comfort of his voice. He was the last link she had to her mother, and Krista did not know how she would cope if she had to leave that part of her life behind. 

\---

The night before Krista was due to leave was a busy one, and Krista found herself too stressed with packing to worry about what the next day would entail. Her father helped her, and oddly, he was the happiest that Krista had ever seen him. From across the bed, upon which lay her pile of bags, he stood, talking and laughing with her; was he playing false happiness? No, he had never been able to do that before, and the dark circles under his eyes were gone - Krista saw his eyes light up when he smiled, and she knew that something had changed. 

Could it have been that he had finally let go of his guilt? Krista imagined her mother watching over them, and smiled, bowing her head as she did so. 

“Krista? Is something troubling you?” Her father asked, looking at her with a concerned expression. 

“No,” Krista whispered, “I was just thinking… if mother could see us now, do you think she would be smiling?”

“I think,” he paused, “I think she would.”

One of her tears fell onto the bedsheet. It would fade, soon; so would all traces of her, in time. “I know she would,” Krista whispered, “because in my mind, all mother would want would be to see us happy, and you are now, are you not, father? I can see it in your eyes.”

Her father crossed the room silently, gently, his eyes fixed upon Krista as she cried without noise. 

“You are right; your mother does want to see us happy, and if you go to find the one you love, then I will know I have done the right thing, and I will have tried to regain my ability to be a good father to you.”

“You were never a bad father to me,” Krista choked on her tears, and her father lifted her up in his arms, holding her close to his heart. 

The flickering of candles was the only source of light overcoming the darkness from outside. As Krista stood in her father’s arms, she dreamed of her mother, and the light she had provided. Krista inhaled the scent of her father, that homely smell; she never wanted to forget what it felt like to stand in his loving arms, but she knew that they had to depart. 

“Father,” she said, after several moments, “I must go and pack some things for Ymir. She will have been heartbroken to leave behind her diaries and belongings.”

“Of course you would think of that, Krista,” he smiled, and withdrew his arms, letting her go. Krista looked at him one last time before she left her bedroom, and quickly made her way through the kitchens and outside to the maids’ building. 

The night was cold, and Krista wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. Despite the month, her breath came in a cloud, and she admired the way it spiralled in the gentle wind. She did not notice the sky until her eyes followed the tiny vapours upward. For the first time in weeks, it was completely clear, and Krista was mesmerised.

The moon was tiny, barely a sliver of bright whiteness among the expanse of darkness. It was not what provided the light she saw by - no, that would be the stars; Krista had never seen so many at once before. It was as if there were a million pinpricks of light upon a single sheet of black; every constellation was visible. It was as if the stars were a picture, rather than reality.

Krista could not take her eyes away from the sky; it was the first time she had seen it in many, many days, and it was far more beautiful than she remembered it ever being. She felt a sense of awe and wonderment growing inside of her, and with the thought of Ymir, those feelings blossomed into hope, and love; in her mind, she envisioned Ymir looking at this very same sky, and though it would be blurred by city lights, Krista hoped it would be just as breathtaking for her. 

Suddenly, a great gust of wind blew from behind her, and it somehow propelled Krista forwards; before she could even realise, she was running faster than she ever had. Her legs were moving with a seemingly endless amount of energy, and laughter bubbled out of her, spilling into the silence of the air. She could feel her hair flying behind her and her eyes stung with the air blowing in her face, but she could not have cared less; she felt free, she felt unafraid… she felt as if Ymir was right by her side, rather than a hundred miles away.

“I will see her again!” She called into the night air, and with her words came more laughter. Her face ached from smiling. 

Krista ran past the maids’ quarters, and to the the top of the hill behind her estate. The edge of the forest lay behind her, and from her high point, she could see beyond the estate where the miles of countryside lay; the other side of the forest, the road that led to town; there were the shops, and the church, and even Sasha’s old home! There it all was; the place she had grown up, lit by the light of endless stars. She had played in this town, she had loved in this town; she had cried in it, danced in it - there was no emotion she had not felt while growing up in her village. It dawned on her that she would never see this view again, and her heart ached with loss. But that same heart also yearned for the views that she had not yet seen - the endless expanse of the ocean as she crossed to America, the country’s snow-topped mountains, its rolling hills and valleys; it was a whole new country, a whole new continent, but for as long as Krista kept her town in her heart, she knew that it would always be home, no matter how far away she travelled, or for how long she stayed.

Eventually, her heart stopped beating so fast, and she panted with fatigue from running. She walked slowly back down the hill, savouring the view, and to the maids’ quarters, where she began to pack Ymir’s belongings with the same love growing ever-stronger in her heart. 

\---

The next morning’s sunrise was spectacular. Krista was awake early; her father came to rise her from her slumber, but found she was already dressed and looking out of her window. 

“It is my last sunrise at home,” she said wistfully, staring out upon the soft oranges and reds.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked outside with her; Krista did not take her eyes away from the morning. The sun was not fully in this sky; partially obscured by the horizon, Krista wondered if it was as reluctant as she to begin the day, for it would be long, and filled with loss. But she laughed to herself quietly, and thought of how ridiculous she was; of course the sun would rise, and with it it would bring light, and hope, and new opportunities. 

“Breakfast is waiting for us,” her father said. “Are you hungry?”

For the first time in weeks, Krista was ravenous. Over breakfast, conversation was sparse; Krista knew not what to say, for nothing she thought of seemed worthy enough as a goodbye. They ate cheeses with bread and fresh fruit, and Krista dreamed of seeing Ymir again. She had packed Ymir some of her clothes, her diaries, and a stack of her books. Krista hoped it would be enough. As Krista sipped her tea, she thought of her father alone in their giant house. 

“Father…” she said eventually, her hands clasped in her lap. “Promise me that you will not be lonely here on your own?”

He smiled at her. “Krista, on the day of grandmother’s funeral, you saw me speaking to a few men, did you not?”

“I did,”

“Well, I had thought after all this time that the people of this town would hate me; I believed that nobody cared for me, excepting you of course, so I chose to not leave the house. But,” he paused, “when I spoke to them again, they treated me as a friend. I have the town, Krista. I will regain the friendship I maintained with the people of this town while your mother was with us.”

Krista was filled with relief at the knowledge that her father would not fall back into his depression. “And after all, we will write!”

“Of course,” he smiled, and suddenly, there was a knock upon the door.Moments later, Miss Peters introduced Annie and Bertholdt to the room. 

“Krista,” Bertholdt smiled. “Have you everything ready to leave? Our carriage awaits us outside.”

Krista’s eyes met her father’s; he smiled. Krista stood from the table and walked them to her luggage, which lay at the bottom of the staircase. Together, and with the help of Mr Lenz, they packed the luggage into the carriage. The sun had fully risen by now, and birthed a stunning day; there was not a cloud in the sky. 

Annie and Bertholdt made their way into the carriage after Mr Lenz had thanked them dearly. 

“Krista! We must depart soon, if we wish to reach Liverpool by sunset!” Annie called from the carriage.

“Will you give me a moment?” Krista shouted back to her.

“Yes, but please be hasty!” 

Krista stood and looked at her father for one of the final times. 

“Father,” she choked, “maybe I could come to visit, we could get back on the boat, or you could come to live with us, or-”

“Krista, I must stay here,” her father said. “I have to deal with our estate and your grandmother’s home. But I would certainly love for you to visit me.”

“I will miss you more than anything, father!” Tears were rolling quickly down Krista’s cheeks and falling onto the grass.

“And I you, my daughter.” Mr Lenz smiled at her sadly and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Krista breathed in deeply and smiled back at him. “I suppose I must leave now,” her voice was still wavery with tears.

“I love you very much, Krista,” he said, his own voice cracking.

“I love you too, father.” Another tear fell, and Krista turned and walked into the carriage, closing the door behind her. The driver of the horses whipped the reins and suddenly they were leaving. In the bright light of the day her father seemed to shine as he waved goodbye, and Krista only continued to cry as the estate and her father grew smaller, until they turned the corner and he was gone.


	25. 'Til Death Do Us Part

After an hour of conversation, the three members of the carriage fell silent. Krista had been talking to try and stop herself from thinking about leaving her father behind, but now that the quiet had descended, Krista found herself terrified: what if she had been wrong? What if she could not find Ymir? She would be all alone, in a city full of people she had never seen before, and the thought terrified her.

After all of her worrying, and all of her excitement, Krista had only just begun to consider the thought that she might not find Ymir. It had been something she had expected, once she had made her decision; and now the thought that it may not happen made her want to cry more than anything. It was almost too much to bear. Liverpool was a large city, after all, and even if she was there, Krista knew it would be difficult to find Ymir amid the people. 

She balled her hands into fists; just because she was afraid, Krista would not give up on her search. As field after field rolled by, Krista devised a method for her search. She would start by searching around the port, as it seemed like the most obvious place she would be. She would ask local people; Ymir was not easy to miss, and Krista had no doubt she would not have changed her name. 

The sunrise had given way to a wonderful blue sky, and Krista admired the scenery as the sun shed light upon it; the leaves of the full trees were a beautifully deep green, and small streams glistened as wildlife thrived around them. Their road was long, and Krista soon grew tired, despite the heat, and fell into a slumber as Bertholdt smiled sadly at her.

*****

Sometime around midday, Krista was woken from her sleep; as her eyes opened, the dream she had been having of Ymir faded and was forgotten. 

“Krista, please wake,” Bertholdt said to her, handing her some water. “Drink this. It is hot, and I do not wish for you to become ill from the heat.”

“Thank you,” Krista said, her voice still tired. “How long do you think it will be until we arrive in Liverpool?” 

“Around four hours. We are travelling much faster than anticipated, so we may arrive back in our town just after sunset, which I am glad for.” Annie said. 

Krista smiled. Only four hours until he could begin her search for Ymir.

“We shall be eating soon,” Bertholdt said, “though we will do so while travelling, for we do not wish to lose the headway we have made. Is that acceptable with you?”

“Of course,” Krista said, though she was not really listening. She missed her father dearly already, but was so excited at the prospect of seeing Ymir again that she could barely sit still.

They ate bread with cheeses, drank water, and talked. 

“Bertholdt… if I may ask…”

“Of course, Krista?”

“What was living near Ymir like when you were younger?”

The man laughed. “Her very essence was free,” he said, “and she hated to take orders from anyone; she loved sport, and was always reading or writing in her diary.

“She never really seemed to like her mother, and her mother did not like her either; they were constantly fighting. When I first found out about her relationship with Miss Nanaba, I thought it an act of defiance, but now I know of your feelings for each other, I cannot help but accept it. Not that I have any kind of problem-” He looked to Krista, flustered and awkward; but her attention had already passed to something else. 

Nanaba. A thought had suddenly invaded Krista’s mind, and she was terrified; what if Ymir found Nanaba on her journey? What if Ymir did not even want to see her? Could Ymir have liked Nanaba more than her; was she just a replacement for a love she had lost? Krista did not know, but he decided that she would calm herself by thinking of the drawing in Ymir’s diary, but the undertones of worry still remained. 

Krista watched the sun’s journey through the sky as the day passed. She decided to go over some of her old sheet music, and smiled as her fingers traced the notes. For the remainder of her journey, she thought of playing the piano with Ymir at her side. Every time Ymir had sat and listened to her play had been special to her, and she recalled them all; they never failed to make her happy. 

*****

Eventually, they reached Liverpool. Krista was astonished; she had never seen a city before, and it was nothing like she had expected. There were people everywhere, and the buildings loomed over her like predatory giants. Finding Ymir would be harder than she thought. They travelled slowly through the labyrinth of streets and Krista found herself forgetting the way they had come. 

Bertholdt knew that Krista wished to be dropped at the port, and vowed to find her a safe place to stay before they left for their village. It took around half an hour to travel through the city, as people walked across the road with no consideration for their carriage. Eventually, Krista drew the small curtain over the window of the carriage; people were staring at her in a way she did not like, and they scared her. But her excitement was growing too, and peaked as she pushed away her anxieties; her search would begin tonight. 

The carriage stopped outside an inn, and Bertholdt smiled at Krista as she peered out at it through a gap in the curtain. 

“We have arrived,” he said softly, looking at her and not taking his eyes away. Annie stared into her lap. 

“We have,” Krista said back. “Bertholdt, Annie; I cannot thank you enough for doing this for me. I-”

“Do not thank us, Krista,” Annie said. “But we must be going now, must we not?”

“Give me a few minutes, Annie, will you? I would like to help Krista with her luggage.”

“Of course. I… I will stay here.”

Bertholdt and Krista stepped out of the carriage and into the warm air of the afternoon. Krista looked at all the buildings for a brief moment, until she turned, and saw the ocean mere yards from her. There it was, shining brilliantly in the sun, with boats floating atop it; the sea crossed Krista’s eyes for the first time and she was taken aback by how large it really was. It seemed to go on forever and ever, curving around the horizon and onwards.

“I forgot that you would not have seen the ocean before,” Bertholdt said from behind her. He rested his hand on her back, his thumb gently brushing the fabric of her dress. “What do you think?”

“It is beautiful…” Krista said, her eyes wide with awe, “I cannot begin to explain it.”

He smiled. “We should probably begin getting your bags inside of the inn. I am sure you have enough money to buy your stay for as long as you need, but of course, I will offer to pay for you, Krista.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I will pay,” Krista smiled at him. “Though I would ask for you to speak for me, for I am a little afraid of these people.”

“You need not be,” Bertholdt laughed, but agreed nonetheless. 

The arrangements were made for Krista to stay at the inn for one week, which would be extended if she needed it to be. Her bags were taken up to the room she would be staying in, and suddenly, Krista was faced with saying goodbye yet again.

She was already tearing up. “I am not quite sure what I should say, Bertholdt; thank you does not seem like enough.”

He looked at her silently. “Promise that you will write to me?”

Krista was slightly taken aback by his request, though she was not sure why. Krista had never truly believed that her cared for her enough to want to remain in her life when she had refused his proposal. 

“Of course I will!” She laughed. “Do not be silly. Ymir will write too, I am sure of it.”

He looked impossibly sad. “I did not think that saying goodbye to you would be this difficult,”

Krista was suddenly aware that she too was pained to say goodbye. “Neither did I,” she looked at the ground. 

He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you, Krista.” He said.

“For what?” She asked.

“For showing me that who my cousin loves does not matter; if she loves you, then how can she be wrong?”

Krista’s eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth to give a reply, but no words came. She simply looked up at him and tried to calm herself. “I want to thank you, too - for all of this.” She said eventually.

He smiled at her, and then his expression turned into something Krista could not read. Suddenly, he pulled her into a tight embrace. It was brief, but passed in slow motion; Krista could feel his hand passing through the locks of her hair, just like Ymir had. He smelled slightly of her too; she had not noticed until he was this close, but it reminded Krista of her. It was over as soon as it had begun, and as he pulled away, Krista noticed that they were both crying. Bertholdt opened his mouth but did not say a word; it was as if he knew that she had been thinking of his cousin. He looked at her one last time and then walked to the carriage without looking back. He did not hear her final muttering of goodbye, and before Krista knew it, the carriage was gone, leaving Krista to stare out over the ocean alone. 

*****

Krista looked around at her room. She had just finished unpacking all of her things, and had changed into her most simple of dresses, with no jewelry; if she was going to be exploring the city alone, she wanted to draw no attention to herself. Before leaving, she ate alone, something she had been used to doing anyway. 

It was busy in the room, and filled with chatter; Krista fidgeted in her seat, anticipating her search for Ymir eagerly. It was possible that they would meet tonight; kiss tonight! What a wonderful thought!

“Excuse me, sir?” She asked to the bartender before setting off into what was now the sunset. 

“Yes miss?” He replied. He was a tall man, and had a strange accent. His beard was rough and he had faint wrinkles in some places. He wore clothes with patches and stains, but his expression was kind, and Krista felt at ease. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Um, yes, if you would not mind…”

“Come on, girl, get to the point!” He laughed. “I haven’t got all evening, you know.”

“Sorry!” She said. “I was just wondering if you have heard of anyone around here by the name of Ymir.”

“Sorry, I haven’t. You might want to check around the dockyard; I heard they have quite a few new workers. They might still be open and working.”

“Oh, thank you!” Krista smiled politely and ran out of the inn and into the night. She walked along the dock, watching in awe as the colours of the sunset were reflected onto the surface of the water. Boats bobbed up and down gently and people bustled through the streets, walking into various shops and speaking to each other with jollity. As she walked, Krista thought about Bertholdt and Annie. Would they have arrived at their village yet? Krista was sad that she would not see them again, but glad that their last meeting had ended on good terms. Around fifteen minutes after she left the inn, she realised she had forgotten to ask where the docks were, so she approached the nearest person she saw, steeled her nerves, and spoke to them.

“Excuse me, sir?” She asked him. “Would you be able to show me the direction of the works on the docks?”

“The dockyard? What business has a pretty young girl like you down there?” He was short, and wore a long coat with an expensive-looking hat and briefcase. He had a thick mustache and sharp eyes. 

“I am looking for someone,” she said, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

“Very well. Come, I will show you where they are,” he told her.

Krista told herself not to follow him, but did nonetheless, ignoring her instincts. She wanted to find Ymir. The man led her down several streets before turning off into a dark alleyway. 

“Here, the journey is shorter if we go this way,” he said. Krista walked behind him. 

It had become much darker suddenly; and Krista found it hard to see. Her skin felt as if a thousand insects were crawling on it and she decided that she would run, for as much as the man looked professionally dressed, she did not trust the way his eyes lingered over her form.Without warning, the man grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around her mouth before she had time to scream. The briefcase fell to the floor with a crash, and Krista thrashed and kicked as he lifted her into the air and threw her to the ground. She screamed out in pain while she had the chance, and tried to get up and run; but within a second, the man had pinned her to the hard cobblestone by her shoulders. 

Krista looked up at him, and their eyes made contact; his eyes gleamed despite the low light and he snarled at her. Krista cried and begged for help.

“Please,” she half-begged, half-cried, “stop! Please, I am begging you, let me go,”

He laughed at her and Krista was suddenly filled with rage; she spat in his face. He paused for a moment before his face turned from amusement to furious anger; he grabbed her by the front of her dress and Krista whimpered with a sudden wave of regret, not knowing what he might do.

But suddenly there came a shout.

“Hey!” A voice called; Krista could barely make it out over the ringing in her ears. As soon as it came, the man jumped up and ran through the alleyway and over a wall. 

Tears were falling fast from Krista’s eyes; through their blurriness, Krista could see a figure standing over her. A figure with dark hair and freckles.

“Ymir…?” Krista said groggily. Her entire body was shaking with fear and she could barely move.

“Ymir?” The figure said. “You know that name?”

Krista blinked and her vision returned slowly to reveal that the figure was not Ymir. It was a boy. She attempted to move back immediately, terrified; but the boy was smiling, and his face was kind.

“Ah, I am sorry, that was not what you needed to hear right now - are you alright?” He asked. “What is your name?”

“Krista,” she said, sitting up slowly. “What is yours?”

“I’m Marco,” he said, still smiling. 

“Forgive me, but did you say that you knew Ymir?” Her head was pounding with the pain that came from being thrown on the floor. 

“Listen,” he said, “we can talk about this later. I want to make sure that you are alright, first. Are you staying anywhere close by?”

“Yes, I am staying at the Mitras Inn.” She said.

“Ah, I know just the one.” He replied, and offered his hand out to her. “Come on, you need to rest. I will take you there.”

Krista took his hand and stood. For a few moments, her vision was black around the edges, but she regained her composure quickly. “No, I should be perfectly alright.” She did not want to give up this chance of finding Ymir; this man knew her! And he was kind! “I need to know where Ymir is, it is very urgent.”

“Ymir is working at the moment, but I am sure we could go-”

“Yes! Thank you very much!”

“But what about that man? Are you feeling alright?”

Krista had become caught up in her excitement; she had almost forgotten what had happened to her. But she forced her feelings down - Ymir was more important. “I should be perfectly fine.” She said, smiling at him. “Please, would you take me to see her?”

Marco looked at her with a sudden understanding in his eyes, and took her hand. He began walking quickly out of the alleyway and down the street. Krista almost had to run to keep up, and she tripped several times; but eventually they turned a corner and a construction site came into view. There were around fifty men working on the site, and in the low light Krista could not see Ymir amidst them. 

“Hey, Bott!” One of them called. “When are we finishing?”

“Now; we are finished with the day’s work, men!” He said, then, quietly, to her: “stay here. I will be back soon, do not worry.”

She nodded at him. Krista’s stomach was a mess of excitement and anxiety; what if this was some other Ymir? What if Ymir did not want to see her! Krista dug her nails into the palms of her hands; she would not let those thoughts prevail. She could be strong, she told herself. She would be strong and not let anyone stand in her wa-

“Krista?”

Ymir’s voice cut through the sounds of the city effortlessly. It was a disbelieving, shocked voice, a voice wavering with tears; but it was hers, and Krista turned to it. 

It really was her. She was standing there; Ymir. But she was so different to the last time Krista had seen her; her skin was more tanned, and she looked stronger, but her eyes seemed heavier, and her hair - it was cut short, like a boy’s. Krista stepped towards her, once, twice, and then she was running, her legs shaking like branches in a winter storm, and Ymir was running too, until they crashed into each other and their lips met. 

It was a kiss more blissful than anything Krista had ever experienced. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear, but that mattered not; the only thing Krista cared for was the warm feeling of Ymir’s lips against her own, contrasting with the cold air around her. She was here, and she was beautiful, and Krista finally felt as if she was safe again. Her hands could feel her hair again, even though it was so short now; she could feel her warmth; and she could smell the scent so comforting to her. 

Krista was not sure how much time had passed before she broke away, but when she did, she saw that tears were falling fast from Ymir’s eyes, even though her own were dry. 

“What are you doing here?” Ymir cried, but she was laughing, too. Soon Krista joined her, and the pair simply looked at each other until Ymir grew curious for answers, and asked for them again. 

“I had to come and find you,” Krista said. “I could never just watch you go like that. It killed me inside, Ymir; what on earth could I do without you?”

She turned to Marco. “Thank you,” she breathed. 

He smiled at her and winked. “Ymir, Krista is staying in the Mitras Inn. Maybe it would be better suited for us if we went there to talk.” He said, and they both agreed. 

Ymir held Krista’s hand tightly in her own, squeezing it every so often like she was afraid to let go. Every few seconds she would turn, look at Krista, laugh in disbelief, and then look again, almost as if if she was not admiring her then Krista would suddenly be gone. The bartender looked shocked to see Krista arrive with guests, but allowed it. 

When they sat in Krista’s room, Marco began to tell Ymir how he had found her; Ymir was furious, but was glad that Krista was alright. Both girls thanked him endlessly. The boy went on to explain how he knew Ymir.

“She found me with another man,” he confessed, his cheeks blushing pink, “and she threatened to turn me in unless I found her a job.”

Ymir looked almost guilty that Krista had found this out, but allowed Marco to continue. 

“When I asked why she wanted a job, she explained her situation to me, and I empathised; we were both in the same boat. I helped her to disguise herself as a man and gave her a job so she could earn money to get to America. I am still not sure if she will have made enough by the time the boat arrives, though-”

“That is no longer a problem.” Krista quickly offered a brief explanation of her own situation, and he was understanding, and glad for Ymir, too. He left them after that, and the girls were truly alone for the first time. 

“Krista,” Ymir said, “you realise that I cannot come back with you…”

“That is fine! I am staying with you,” Krista said, and Ymir’s eyes filled with tears. “I promised that I would never leave your side, did I not? We can go to America together.”

Ymir began to cry, but wiped away the tears and pulled Krista into a tight embrace. 

“I love you,” she sobbed into Krista’s shoulder. 

“I love you too,” Krista replied. 

“How did you find me here?” Ymir asked after several moments. 

Krista looked at her sheepishly. “Bertholdt told me about your diaries… I could not help myself.”

Ymir laughed at her. “It is quite alright; doing so led you back to me, so how could I be angry? I thought I would never see you again!”

“Neither did I.”

They both leaned forwards; their foreheads touched and they stayed there for several moments, listening to each other’s breathing.

“I brought all of your things with me.” Krista said. “I have your diaries, and your clothes and books.”

Ymir kissed her nose. “You are the most considerate person I have ever known.”

Krista laughed. “That is not true!”

Ymir laughed too, and kissed her quickly again. “But how did you manage to take all of those things? How did you manage to come here?”

“Bertholdt and Annie allowed me to ride with them when they were travelling home. They know everything, and yet they still treated me as a friend,” she smiled. 

Ymir’s smile was wide. “I know I should have trusted him more.” She laughed. 

There was a pause.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Krista asked. 

“As if I would ever leave again!” Ymir exclaimed. 

“Well then you must spend forever by my side,”

“I wish for nothing else.”

“Ymir?”

“Yes?”

“Are you tired?”

“Yes, I am quite.” She laughed again; it was infectious.

“Shall we get into bed for the night?”

“I had never expected to hear those words come from your mouth, but it really is the most blissful thing. Let us!”

Krista smiled at her, and could not take her eyes away from her face as they changed into their bedclothes.

The room was dark and warm that night, and Krista stared at the moon through the window as she lay in bed next to Ymir. She moved back slightly, and let her body lean against Ymir’s.

“Oh, come here,” Ymir laughed, and pulled Krista to her; Krista squealed but became calm once her head was resting on Ymir’s shoulder. 

Krista could hear the beating of her heart, and allowed its gentle rhythm to rock her into slumber, where she knew her dreams would finally be of happiness.


	26. Epilogue: Five Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the end is finally here. This is the epilogue chapter, set five years after the events of this story. I'm tearing up as I write this, because I don't want it to end! This story has been a huge part of my life over the last five months and it has helped me through a lot of stuff. Thank you to all the people that have reviewed! Writing this story has re-kindled my old dream to become a writer. I hope that everyone enjoyed this story and I hope I managed to make someone happy with my writing. This isn't the end for me though - I'm starting my next story very soon, which I have been planning for almost a year now. Look out for it!
> 
> Thank you so, so much, everyone!
> 
> Ostara

The sensation of cool morning air and dewy grass between her toes was one Ymir found refreshing; as she made her way home from the village shops, she sighed with content and walked a little faster. There was an empty field, dotted with cornflowers and poppies, nestled between her home and the town. She walked through it barefoot as a shortcut, eagerly awaiting her arrival. She carried a loaf of fresh bread and a few letters she had collected from the post office in a bag on her shoulder. Ymir grinned at the wind as it blew past her, making her hair fly back from her face.

The cottage she shared with Krista came into view once she had almost finished crossing the field. It was small and quaint, and felt more like home to her than anything ever had. A thought bloomed in her mind and she quickly set down her bags and began to pick the most colourful flowers to arrange into a bouquet.

"Krista would like this," she said to herself quietly.

For five years they had been living together in their tiny home. It had not been easy; they had arrived in America with no idea of what to do or where to go. Thankfully, Krista's money had bought them their home in a town similar to the one she had grown up in. It was familiar to her, and said that it helped to ease her homesickness. The one thing Krista did not miss was the echoing loneliness of endless halls; their home consisted of just four small rooms and Krista could not love it any more. Already her new home was filled with things that she adored: piles upon piles of books; pressed flowers neatly hung in small frames; sheet music scattered on their tea-stained table. To her, expensive artwork and fine china were nowhere near as lovely as Ymir's colourful paintings or the simple dining set they had bought soon after arriving in their town.

Krista earned a living by designing wedding dresses, which were sold all over the country, and Ymir occasionally worked on a ranch several miles from their home. The life they lived was simple, but filled with happiness, and neither could imagine being content any other way.

The sun shone on the back of Ymir's neck as she climbed over the fence at the end of the field and walked down the winding path to their cottage. The breeze carried with it Krista's newest melody; a sweet song that reminded Ymir of blossoming trees and daffodils. Since the town in which they lived selled no sheet music, Krista had begun writing her own, and she had a natural affinity for it. Ymir stopped outside of their bright yellow door and listened for a moment before opening it quietly.

The music continued to play and Ymir walked through to the kitchen silently. Placing the flowers in a vase, Ymir took a moment to brush her hair out of her face before approaching the living room. It was the largest room in the cottage, and housed a small piano in the corner, which Krista adored and played frequently. Ymir loved it when she did, and she would spend most evenings reading a book by candlelight or drawing Krista while she played. Ymir set the vase down on the piano, and Krista jumped in shock.

"Ymir! You frightened me!" She laughed, looking up at Ymir from the stool.

"I see you awoke whilst I was in town, then," Ymir said, smiling.

"Yes," Krista said, pouting, "and I was very disheartened to wake and not see you beside me!"

"My deepest apologies," Ymir mock-bowed, making Krista glare at her.

"I see you picked me flowers; maybe I shall forgive you now!" Krista grinned.

"I would hope so! Seeing as I went so out of my way, just for you…"

"Ymir! Do not make me feel so guilty!" Krista protested.

Ymir laughed at her. "Very well, if you insist. Oh! I collected these letters for you."

Krista took the two letters from her. "This one is from father!" She exclaimed excitedly, "And this one addressed to the both of us; it must be from Bertholdt!"

She tore open the letter from her father.

Dear Krista, it read, and Ymir too,

I am glad to hear that you both are well. Things are fine here, if a little dull; though the weather has been beautiful, life was uneventful until I received your letter. I have been fishing many times with Mr Ral and Mr Jin; they have become close friends of mine.

The formidable Mr Kirstein asked me a few days ago if you would be returning home soon; I had to suppress a laugh at his expression, which reminded me of a lost dog. He exclaimed that he missed your piano playing, but I began to ignore him after that. He is a very irritating man.

Speaking of music, I asked Mr Ral very kindly if his daughter would play to me the sheet music you have sent, and she did; it was beautiful! I was not sure if your musical ability would translate well into composition, for I have heard that it is extraordinarily difficult to do, but I chastise myself for thinking such things now; the piece you sent to me is truly delightful to listen to. I am glad that Miss Ral did it justice - she is a fine player, and a lovely woman.

To Ymir - thank you for the drawing that came with the last letter. I have hung it in my room, and it is lovely to have something from you. Would you like for me to send a parcel with more of your books? There are still some in your old room that Krista was unable to take; I had almost forgotten to check.

I expect that you will be hearing news from Mr Hoover with this letter; word reaches me faster than it does you. I will write soon, but Miss Peters is calling me for lunch, and I must go. Write me back soon - I cannot wait to hear from you!

Sending all of my love and best wishes, father.

Krista smiled as she read his words. "I will write him back this evening, and it can be sent the next day," she said, as she carefully placed the paper in a drawer filled with previous letters from her father. She wondered what the news from Bertholdt could be, and decided to read the letter while Ymir cooked.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Ymir asked Krista. "I bought us bread from the town this morning."

"No, I was waiting for you," Krista smiled sweetly. "Would you like some tea?" She asked.

Ymir sat down on one of their cushioned seats. "Yes please; give me a moment, and I will make us some breakfast. I am starved!"

Krista smiled at her and began to read the letter from Bertholdt as she began to make the tea. Within a few seconds, she shouted loudly; Ymir ran from the living room to the kitchen.

"What is it? Is something the matter?" She asked worriedly, but upon seeing that everything was fine, she was confused.

"B-Bertholdt… married…" Was all Krista could say, and thrusted the letter into Ymir's hands.

Ymir, Krista,

I have the most wonderful news; my hands are still shaking with shock and excitement as I write this. Just a few hours ago, I made a proposal to Miss Leonhart and she accepted; we are to be married!

I could not be happier, but I wish you both well, and hope to hear back from you soon. I will write again when I have more details, and when my hand is still enough to tell the whole tale.

With love, Bertholdt.

"I cannot believe it! Did you read it?" Krista exclaimed, giddy with happiness.

Ymir held the letter in her hands, which she was surprised to see were shaking. Why?

"I can finally let go of my guilt," Krista whispered to herself. She was smiling from ear to ear.

"I cannot believe it took him five years to realise that she loved him," Ymir laughed. "My cousin… married!"

"I wonder how Reiner will feel about this," Krista said, "his cousin and his closest friend!"

"No doubt he will rejoice," Ymir said, "though when he returns, he shall be bitter in his search for a wife, for he is getting older."

Krista jumped as the kettle began to boil, letting out a shrill shriek. She was still smiling as she poured the tea, and as the two girls sat and ate their breakfast at their small wooden table, they talked of Bertholdt and Annie's wedding and what it might be like.

Krista and Ymir both wrote letters of congratulation back to him, and placed them by the doorway to be sent the next day. After, they sat together and read, both curled up in the same reading chair. The rhythm of Ymir's heartbeat helped Krista to focus on the book she was reading.

The hours passed quickly, and before Krista knew it she had finished her book. She lay on Ymir's lap and closed her eyes; before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. Ymir looked down at her.

"How did I manage to get this life?" She whispered to herself, half in disbelief and half in guilt, as she softly stroked a lock of Krista's hair. "I never deserved this kind of happiness."

For five years the two girls had shared a bed, a home, and a life. Under the guise of close female friends, they had managed to integrate into society without anyone suspecting a thing. For a girl who had slept on the side of the road for weeks this kind of safety and happiness was a sign that danger would be coming soon. Even though they had been together with no issue for so long, Ymir still could not trust herself to feel safe.

She remembered the night she had left the Lenz estate, never to return; the rain had lashed down upon her, each drop that fell adding to her guilt and fear. Despite telling her to stay, Ymir wanted Krista by her side. How badly she had wanted to turn back and take Krista with her! A life without her would be a dull one, without the tiniest hint of love. Never in her life had she felt desperation and terror like she did that night, and Ymir feared of losing Krista even more now that her attachment to her had grown stronger.

Ymir took in a deep breath. "Everything is fine." She muttered. "You have nothing at all to be worrying about."

Exhaling slowly, she looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the paining of the setting sun that had once hung in the room she had slept in at the Lenz estate. How different things were now to back then. All of her hopes and dreams had blossomed into fruition, and they had done so with Krista by her side. Ymir kissed her forehead. How had she ever thought this girl weak? She was stronger than Ymir would ever be.

"I love you," she whispered into Krista's ear. "Please… do not ever leave me on my own."

Those were the words she had not the courage to say to Krista while she was awake, but they came out easily to her while she slept.

"Stop being silly, Ymir…" Krista whispered, still half asleep. "I would never leave."

Ymir was horrified. "You were not sleeping!" She cried.

Krista laughed quietly. "Any kiss from you would wake me, Ymir."

Ymir felt her cheeks burn a hot red. "I will go and make us something to eat for lunch now," she said, untangling herself from Krista and standing up.

Krista laughed again and watched her leave. "I love you too," she said, quieter now.

Ymir paused and looked at her from the doorway. Krista was still sat in the chair, her legs curled up, revealing the pale skin of her ankle. Her hair was slightly tangled and fluffy from sleep, and her eyes were red from where she had been rubbing them. But they were still a magnificent blue, and shone with love. Her cheeks were pink with a rosy blush, for she had been looking at Ymir, and doing so always made her feel either flustered or filled with admiration; sometimes, both.

Krista quickly stood and skipped over to plant a kiss on Ymir's lips. She ran her thumb over Ymir's cheek when she pulled away, and traced a pattern between her freckles.

"Could I help?" She asked, playful now.

"Krista, the last time you tried to help me cook, you almost burned down our home."

"Please! I beg you!" Krista pleaded. "I will be more careful if you let me help now."

"You are too persuasive," Ymir laughed, and allowed Krista to chop the vegetables she had earlier picked from their small garden.

As they worked, Krista's mind drifted to thoughts of her grandmother, as they often did. She wondered what the old woman would think if she could see her like this - free, and happy. A sad smile crossed her lips as the answer came, but she could finally accept it - her grandmother would have been angry, but that was alright. The only thing she was responsible for was the happiness she felt now, and none of the things her grandmother had told her she was.

The sun's rays illuminated the kitchen, and Ymir and Krista shared smiles and laughs as they stood and cooked together, their eyes shining, and their hearts warm.


End file.
